Everything's Changed
by pepsicolagurl
Summary: A surprise visitor from the past can bring a father and daughter close for the first time [Completed April 1, 2002]
1. Chapter One- Reunion

Title- Everything's Changed  
  
Author- pepsicolagurl  
  
Rating- R for language and violence  
  
Disclaimer- I don't own anything other than any original characters. Everything else is owned by who or what owns them. The title of the story is taken from the Lonestar song on the same name, found on the CD Lonely Grill (acoustic version, bonus track) and on Country Heat 2000. Sue me if you want, but all you'll get is a few CDs, a few boxes of Kraft Dinner, and a couple of loonies. Sorry, I'm just a poor Canadian.  
  
Chapter One  
  
With a short laugh, she pulled open the door to the main housing, immediately unwrapping her sweater from around her waist and pulling it over her shoulders. It was always cold inside the building, and it was the only reason any of them kept their sweaters around in the spring. "I just want to check my messages," she said, breaking off the conversation between the other two girls as she sauntered up to the desk in the corner, smiling at the woman behind there. "Good morning, Karen. Got anything for me?"  
  
The secretary tapped her fingernail against the counter, a habit that all the girls teased her about. "I know there's something here for you. I just have to find it." She started to rifle through the stack of letters and phone messages on her desk before looking over her shoulder. "Oh, and the headmistress wants to see you. She's in her office. I'll have your stuff ready for you when you come out."  
  
Smiling brightly, she nodded. "Thank you." Turning away, she walked around the corner and dug into the pocket of her black sweater, taking out two silver barrettes. If there was one thing that the headmistress hated, it was to have "her girls", as she called them, come to see her with hair hanging in their faces. The teenager was just in the process of growing out the bangs that she had ever since she was a young child, and she wasn't really in the mood for a lecture.  
  
Taking a deep breath, she knocked on the door in front of her and crossed her fingers, hoping that her hair was pulled back enough. A faint voice asked her to come in, and she opened the door, stepping over the threshold with a bright smile. Immediately, she straightened her posture and cleared her throat. "Miss Coolidge, you asked me to see me?"  
  
The older woman, looking severe with her gray hair pulled tightly back in a bun, motioned for her to step inside further and close the door behind her. The teenager did so, waiting until she was motioned to take a seat. No matter how many times she switched private schools, the rules never changed, and they had been burned into her mind about a decade ago. "I received a call from your father today, Tara."  
  
Holding back her sigh, she fought the urge to roll her eyes. Not only at the fact that she was reminded that she had to live by her middle name, but the fact that the call had probably been her father taking her out of the private school in Orlando and sending her somewhere else in the country to finish off this year and her senior year after that. It was a shock that she had spent over a year at the school she was at now, she thought to herself. "About what, Miss Coolidge?"  
  
"Your father has requested that you pack up your things immediately and fly back to Nevada. He also mentioned something about this having to do with your mother." Her eyes widened immediately. That could only mean one thing. "Your luggage will be transported to your father's place, and it should be there in two days. Just pack what you need immediately in your backpack and take that with you. The school's driver will take you to the airport, where there's a ticket being held in your name, leaving in three hours. I'm sorry for the short notice, but the call just came in."  
  
Nodding, she took a deep breath and stood up. "Thank you, very much. Could you please call my father back and inform him that I will be on that flight?"  
  
"Of course, Tara." The older woman stood as well and extended her hand across the desk. "It was a joy having you here. I'm sorry to see one of our best students leave."  
  
Shaking her hand, the teenager smiled. "It was a pleasure to be here, Miss Coolidge. Your school is one of the best that I've attended. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some unexpected packing to see to."  
  
**********  
  
It was already dark and very late when she stepped outside the airport, immediately fumbling in her bag for a cigarette. Only two good things were coming from her trip back to her father: the fact that she had a chance to actually see him, and the fact that she didn't have to wear any more school uniforms. The past ten years had been spent in plaid skirts, white blouses, dark sweaters, and knee high socks, with the occasional matching blazer tossed in, always complete with the school's crest, to break up the monotony of her clothing. It was a joy to get back into her faded jeans and tank tops that were usually reserved for weekend wear, or summer vacation.  
  
In fact, she thought as she took a deep drag of her smoke, most of her spring breaks, summer vacations, and winter vacations weren't even spent with her father. Oh, she came home for Christmas every year, that was a given, but everything else was spent away from him. If she could spend more than a week, total, with her father, it came as a shock. He usually sent her money to go to Aspen with a friend and her family for a ski vacation, or the last summer, which she had spent in Hawaii with a family that she had met when she had attended a private school out there.  
  
She knew why she wasn't with her father much. She reminded him too much of his late wife, her mother. Not a day went by, she knew, that he didn't think about how she had her mother's dark brown eyes, or her long, blonde hair, which had recently turned a honey color that resembled her father's hair...or what color it used to be. Every time he looked at her, she knew that he thought of Tara, her long-ago deceased mother.  
  
When was the last time he had called her "princess", she wondered as she dropped her half smoked cigarette and walked up to a waiting taxi driver. Giving him the name of the building that she was to go to, she slid into the back seat and watched out the window as all the lights started to melt together. She must have been six the last time he called her that, just before he sent her away for the first time, to her first private school in Texas. Her nickname wasn't the only thing that had changed. Her father had finally moved from their small, comfortable house, to Las Vegas, a city that she had never really cared for. Anything to get him far away from the memories, and far away from what had happened. She was the only reminder of that hot afternoon in July, when her and her mother took their last trip to the shopping mall.  
  
Rolling her eyes, she broke out of her thoughts and pulled a pack of gum out of her purse, pushing a piece in her mouth to cover the scent of tobacco. A quick spritz of her favorite body spray covered up what was on her clothes as they pulled up to the somewhat familiar building. She thanked the driver and handed him a twenty dollar bill, telling him to keep the change from the sixteen and a half dollar ride as she got out and looked around. She had only been there three times, and only been in the building once, when her father had forgotten something and ran back in to pick it up. None of the inside was particularly interesting to her, and she couldn't remember a thing about it.  
  
Steeling herself, she opened the door and walked to the front desk, giving her name before obtaining a visitor's badge, which she clipped onto one of the pockets of her jeans. She waited for the receptionist to let her father know that she was there, before the woman told her to go in, and gave her quick direction to his office.  
  
She whistled a song under her breath as she walked along the confusing corridors before she came to the office she was supposed to find. Opening the door without knocking, she walked in, still whistling with a smile on her face. "Dr. Hook's Queen of the Silver Dollar," the man said when she stood in front of his desk.  
  
"Yup, got it in one," she said brightly, before sitting down in the chair beside her. "What was up with the cryptic message, Dad?"  
  
Gil Grissom smiled faintly as he looked her over, examining her to see if anything had changed since her last visit out to see him. The only difference was the short hair that had once been blonde that was now past her shoulders and falling in her face. "That used to be your mom's song, you know," he said quietly. "How have you been, Anastasia? Your grades are the same, I take it?"  
  
Rolling her eyes, she nodded. "Yeah, I haven't slipped yet. I'm also fine, and no matter how hard I try, I think I've learned that you'll never called me Stacey." Or princess, she thought. She had been named after the Russian princess, and that was all he used to call her. Now, he only used her full first name, one that made her practically shudder when she heard it. All of her friends had better names, she always thought, like Jennifer or Amanda. She had the strangely pronounced Russian name. "So, are you going to tell me why I was yanked out of another school? One that I didn't really mind, either, even if the uniform did suck."  
  
"I'm sorry," he started, even though she could see that he really wasn't. He was never sorry that he had taken her out of a school, or taken her away from the friends that she had made. Whenever he heard about a school that was better than the one she was at, she was immediately sent there. It didn't matter how much the tuition was, or what the students were like. As long as it had a good academic program, and highly recommended teachers, she could kiss whatever life she had built up goodbye and start a new one, under her middle name and her mother's maiden name. It also helped if the school was far from him, so that there wouldn't be the occasional weekend visit or the holidays spent together. As far as her father was concerned, Anastasia Grissom was as dead as her mother was, but he supported and paid for Tara Davidson, no matter where she was sent. "Have you heard a word that I said?"  
  
Her head shook quickly. "Sorry, what? I wasn't listening."  
  
"Obviously," Grissom said dryly. "I was talking to myself, I guess."  
  
"Give me a break, Dad. This afternoon, I was in Florida, coming back from a field hockey game, when I was told that I had to pack up everything, leave what friends I managed to make in the year and a half that I was there, and fly back here. Not only that, but the headmistress said something about you saying something about Mom, who you never talk about. So, an explanation is much needed."  
  
He looked mildly surprised at her words. "I didn't know that you played field hockey."  
  
Pressing her back further against the uncomfortable chair, she sighed impatiently. "I think every girl that goes to private or boarding school knows how to play field hockey. It's like a requirement or something. 'Behave like a lady, do well in your studies, oh, and play a prissy game that shouldn't even be considered a sport'. Besides, the school's team was playing, I was just watching. I'm more of a softball girl, anyway. At least you don't have to wear a skirt for that." The smile that had flashed across her face quickly disappeared as she looked around his somewhat dark obvious. "What, did they forget to pay the power bill or something? Just why am I in the house of horrors, anyway," she added, looking around at all the insects and embalmed items with a theatrical shudder.  
  
"Your mother's killer is out of jail," he began again, referring to her the only way he could, as if he and Anastasia weren't related. She motioned with her hand for him to continue. "That would be my reasoning behind why I brought you here instead of keeping you in Florida. I'd like to be able to keep an eye on you."  
  
And it was the return of the paranoid father, she thought sarcastically to herself. "Dad, think about this for a minute. This guy hasn't seen either of us in ten years. I don't think he even knew that you guys had a daughter, or have. This half present, half past tense thing is really screwing me up. Anyway, I don't even go by your name, remember? You had my name hyphenated with Mom's maiden name, and I go by that name. If this guy even remembers an Anastasia Grissom, I'm sure he can't figure out that Tara Davidson is the same person. He probably doesn't even remember your name."  
  
With a tired expression, her dad rubbed his forehead as if he felt a headache starting. "Anastasia, he was accused of killing his wife. He knew that all the evidence pointed to him, and I had enough to present to the district attorney. I almost put him in jail. And then he shot your mom, and I did put him in jail. I'm sure he remembers my name very well."  
  
"But you don't live in California anymore. Don't you get it? You're not in Santa Monica. You're in Las Vegas, surrounded by half naked women and annoying tourists that come to lose their hard earned money at one of many casino slash hotels out here. I doubt that this guy, whoever he is, is smart enough to figure out where you live. Besides, can't you just get a restraining order against him or something? Or get one for me, and then send me back to school?"  
  
His eyes flashed quickly with repressed anger. "Don't use that tone with me, young lady. This isn't a joke," he told her sternly. "This is serious, and I want you to be somewhere I can see you and know that you're all right."  
  
There had to be someway out of this situation, she figured. She had gotten so used to living by herself in another state, away from him, that the last thing she wanted to do was have to be looked after by a father that paid her tuition, sent her money every two weeks, and called her monthly to make sure that she didn't need anything else. "I still don't get it. If I'm here, then it's obvious that you have a daughter, and it makes me a target, doesn't it? Damn it, I just want to go back to Orlando."  
  
"Now you've resorted to whining?" Grissom asked her, raising one eyebrow at her tone. "You could easily be linked to me, if someone looks in the right places. The bank transfers, for one thing. Every few weeks, the money that goes from my account to an account in your name. And I'm quite easy to find. I, somehow, keep getting my name in the newspapers and on television."  
  
"I know," she said dully. "Sara sends me the news clippings all the time. I've got a photo album full of articles about you, and stuff that you've written for those forensic magazines. She always sends me that stuff."  
  
Now, he looked more surprised than he had ever since she walked in the door. "I didn't know that you and Sara still kept in touch. She never mentioned anything to me."  
  
Shrugging, Anastasia looked down at her nails and wondered if she should put something on them besides the clear polish that was allowed at her school. "Not many kids keep in touch with their old baby-sitters, but I'm different. Besides, I liked her when I was a kid. She used to crank up the radio and dance around the house with me." And she was there for me when you weren't, she wanted to add, but didn't dare say. Because it had been Sara Sidle that had comforted her when she finally understood that her mom was never coming home. Her only baby-sitter, one of her dad's old students, was the only person from her past that she heard from on a regular basis. "She writes me every other week, too. You know, she probably did tell you, but you just didn't hear her." Snapping her gum, she looked away.  
  
Grissom kept his biting comment to himself, reminding himself that she wasn't any smart-mouthed teenager, but his smart-mouthed teenager, before sighing. "Whatever the case may be, Anastasia, you're staying here. You're only sixteen, and I'm still your father, which means that I make the decisions."  
  
"Gee, that's news to me," she said sarcastically.  
  
"I've already enrolled you in distance education school, so that you'll be doing your school work at home," he continued, ignoring her comment. "Despite the fact that you won't be going to a high school, I expect you to keep your grades up, and after this is all finished, you and I will talk about whether you'll go to a public school out here or another private school. All right?"  
  
With a sour look on her face, her eyes met his. "Well, it's not like I have much a choice, do I? I'm basically at your mercy, no matter how much it hurts me to say that. What's next, you're going to head down to Bodyguards'R'Us and get some hired muscle to follow me around? Oh, I know. You're going to make me take a drug test, right? This is ridiculous."  
  
Rolling his eyes, he wondered if he was ever going to get the point across to her that her life could very much be in danger just because of what he had done eleven years ago. "You may think so, but all this is necessary. You might see that one day."  
  
Then again, he didn't expect to look out the window and see pigs flying anytime soon.  
  
**********  
  
"Queen of the Silver Dollar", by Dr. Hook, is found on "Dr. Hook and the Medicine Show Revisited". 


	2. Chapter Two- Discussion

Title- Everything's Changed  
  
Author- pepsicolagurl  
  
Rating- R for language and violence  
  
Notes- The disclaimer is on the first chapter. Read it, study it. They'll be a pop quiz later, so make sure you have your No. 2 pencils ready.  
  
Chapter Two  
  
When he pulled into the garage of his townhouse, he noticed that a few things were different than they normally were. For one, all of the blinds were open, as well as the windows. Music...country music, to be exact, was floating out of the windows when he had listened closely, and he could see someone walking around. Of course, he wasn't used to coming home and seeing a teenager, either.  
  
He stood in the doorway to the small kitchen, watching with a small smile as she danced around while stirring a few spoonfuls of granola into her yogurt, singing along with Jo Dee Messina's Lesson In Leaving. He cleared his throat and watched with amusement as she turned around, startled. "Sorry, I forgot what time you were coming home," she said, walking past him as she crunched the first spoonful of her breakfast, heading into the living room to turn down the stereo. "We were only allowed to listen to music on Friday and Saturday afternoons, and it had to be at a really low volume, so I accidentally blasted it."  
  
"That's fine," Grissom said quietly as the song abruptly changed to a Lonestar song. "I see that you still listen to country."  
  
She made a face as she sunk down onto the couch and picked up the entertainment section of the newspaper, unfolding it with a snap of the paper. "It's better than a lot of the stuff out there today. Besides, it's what you and Mom raised me on."  
  
"Actually," he said, opening the fridge to get a bottle of water, "your mom was the country music lover. I was the one that listened to rock. She loved to listen to Crystal Gale, George Jones, and the like."  
  
Shrugging, she ate another spoonful of her yogurt and granola. "Now, it's the Dixie Chicks and Diamond Rio, but I like the old stuff, too. You're the reason that I get funny looks whenever I put on Dr. Hook or something like Brian Setzer. Do you listen to that stuff anymore? I still remember you and Mom dancing around to that stuff when I was little."  
  
He blinked in surprise, wondering when they had started to talk like an actual father and daughter, especially after the conversation they had the night before. "Uh...I still have some of it around, but I don't really listen to it anymore. I have some of your mom's old records, too, if you wanted to listen to them."  
  
Looking up from the paper, she smiled. "Really? I haven't heard some of those in a long time. Do you still have that old '45 that I used to make you guys play all the time? What was it...Elvis and the Space Invaders or something like that. The one that had all the little pieces of songs, when they came down and stole his teddy bear or something like that."  
  
Nodding, he chuckled to himself. "I think it's still around. I don't know how you can listen to that and still not be able to watch E.T. The movie definitely scared you when you were younger. You slept with me and your mom for a week, before we found our old night light."  
  
Her eyes darkened as she looked back at the paper. "Yeah, whatever," she said lowly, tapping one foot to the music as she went back to her reading.  
  
He wasn't sure what he had said wrong, but he knew that Anastasia wasn't going to say anything. Either he had embarrassed her, or he had brought up a sore subject with her, but he knew that what he had said about her and that specific movie wouldn't have made her speak coldly to him. Normally, when he mentioned it, she just blushed and changed the subject. But this was different.  
  
There was the thought that it could have something to do with her mother. He still had trouble thinking about her and what happened. In fact, the only time he talked about her was when his daughter mentioned her. He still blamed himself for her death, and he knew that, whether it was unintentional or not, Anastasia blamed him, too. It had taken her awhile to learn all the facts. Some of it came from old newspaper clippings that she found, little bits of information that either he or Sara Sidle had accidentally told her, and the rest was from what she remembered from when she was younger.  
  
It didn't help that every time he looked at Anastasia, he saw the same girl that had stolen his heart when he was younger, and then just disappeared from his life. He had known Tara from high school, and had somehow ended up at the same college as she had. Their occasional friendship had somehow elevated to their first date, and eventually to their marriage. Anastasia had come sometime after that, the little baby that he had fallen in love with the moment he held her in his arms.  
  
Now, he noticed, she looked more like her mother every time he saw her. In the time that he had sent her away, her chubby little body had grown taller and more slender. Her hair was just a few inches shorter than the length that Tara preferred hers. Their eyes were the same color and held the same depth that he lost himself in so many times when he was younger. Even their attitudes were alike, though Anastasia hadn't been around her mother long enough to adopt it, although she did like to follow her around and mimic everything that she did a few months before she was killed. But she had that same sarcastic, blunt tone of voice that caught you off guard, and the same quick, dry humor. The only way that you could tell that he and his daughter were related, he realized, was that they both had the same smile, though his wasn't as often seen as hers was.  
  
"All I really gotta do is live and die, but I'm in a hurry and don't know why," she sang under her breath, breaking her father out of his thoughts as he stood leaning against the wall, staring blankly at this daughter. "Okay, is there a reason that you're looking at me like that?"  
  
He shrugged, still looking at her, as the medley of Alabama songs turned into a fiddle solo, her foot still tapping out the beat. "I just realized how much you look like your mother. You're almost identical to what she looked like back then," he said quietly, watching as she tucked her hair behind her ear.  
  
Slowly, she put down the section of the paper she was reading and met his eyes. "I know. That's why you never invite me to come back home, besides a few days for Christmas break."  
  
If that wasn't a kick in the ass, he didn't know what was. "Anastasia, I'm sorry that-"  
  
"Don't bother," she said smoothly, breaking him off. "I'm used to it by now, Dad. I see you once a year, I get a phone call every month. It doesn't bother me like it used to, when I was little. I mean, I basically lost my mother and father within a few months, but whatever. If anything, I'm more mature than I should be, and that can't be too bad. Besides, you can't change who you are." She dismissed him by picking up the paper again and reading the next movie review as he turned away, defeated, heading upstairs to the master bedroom.  
  
He just didn't know how to go about telling her that the father that she knew wasn't the person he really was.  
  
**********  
  
When Grissom woke up later that afternoon, he had expected to see his daughter stretched out in front of the television, a luxury that wasn't offered in her private school. On the weekends, they had the opportunity to watch a movie or two in the lounge, and with their curfew of ten o'clock on Saturdays, they could go out to a movie theater if they wanted, but television shows was something that she didn't get to watch. When she had been younger, she used to sit down with her mom whenever Tara watched a soap opera during the afternoon, and he knew that when she was in private school on Oahu, she had a friend that invited her over to her house every weekend to watch television with her, but she really didn't get to see much.  
  
Instead, he had heard country music, yet again, coming from the closed door to the guest room, along with the sounds of Anastasia unpacking her luggage that had come a day early. He remembered the phone ringing once, and her answering it, but the call obviously wasn't for him, judging by the amount of time she had spent talking and laughing with whoever it was.  
  
For the past hour, he hadn't seen his daughter, but he could hear her moving around before the door to her bedroom flung against the wall and the music became louder as she ran down the stairs. "Hey," she called over her shoulder as she dug into her backpack for something.  
  
"Are you going somewhere?" he asked her curiously, as she pulled out both a tube of lipstick and a tube of lip gloss.  
  
She nodded, throwing her hair out of her face. "Yeah, Sara called earlier and wanted to know if I wanted to catch a quick dinner with her, so that we could do a little catching up with what's been going on lately. Actually, my taxi should be coming in fifteen minutes. Damn, I have to hurry up," she said as she hurried back up the stairs and, from what it sounded like, into the bathroom. A few minutes later, the music turned off and she was back downstairs, straightening out the black tank top she was wearing. "You don't mind, do you?" she asked suddenly, looking over at him as he started to read the same paper she had finished that morning.  
  
Looking up, Grissom shook his head. "No, I know that you and Sara haven't seen each other for awhile. She was on vacation last time you were out, right?"  
  
"I'm surprised that you even remembered," she mumbled, as she slipped on a pair of black sandals, looking around. "Do you know where I left my wallet?"  
  
"Ontop of the microwave," he told her, before turning the page. "Take a jacket with you. The sun'll be down by the time that you come home, and it'll be cool then."  
  
Her eyes rolled as she threw her wallet in her purse, snapping her gum. "Thanks, Dad, but it gets cool in Orlando at night, too. Well, sometimes. I'm not stupid enough to forget my jacket, anyway. Oh, that distance education school called, and said that I have to come in tomorrow to meet with my counselor. You don't have to come, though, because I'm sixteen. This is the cheapest school that I've ever been enrolled in. They want the cheque for a hundred dollars tomorrow, too."  
  
He nodded, engrossed in whatever article he was reading. "I know. I'll drive you down tomorrow. When is your appointment?"  
  
"Two in the afternoon. I have to pick out what courses I'm taking, too. They said that I can only take two at once, so I'll most likely get science over as quick as possible. That and math," she said, making a face as she picked up her leather jacket from the back of one of the dining room chairs, folding it over her arm.  
  
"You're definitely your mother's daughter in that aspect," he said dryly. "I think it's safe to say that you're not going to major in any type of science in college."  
  
Sighing, she went into the kitchen to get rid of her gum. "If I go to college," she reminded him.  
  
"When you go to college," he said in return, smiling to himself when he saw her look. "Wasn't that part of the deal? If I let you go on that trip to France with your friend's family, you'd at least go through one year of college." She made another face as her words as she picked up her purse. "Your taxi is here."  
  
"I noticed. See you later," she called as she walked out of the townhouse, to the waiting yellow car.  
  
**********  
  
With a frown on her face, Anastasia looked across the table at the brunette. "I don't know. I still think that it would be better for me to stay in Florida, but he won't hear any of it," she complained, taking a sip of her cola before putting down the glass and stirring the slice of lime around with her straw.  
  
Sara Sidle grinned across from her. "You're just not used to Grissom being concerned about you. You might as well get used to it if you're out here."  
  
"All he used to be concerned about was my bank account before. I think I liked that side of him better. You can totally tell that he doesn't want me around, if only for the fact that I bring back all his memories of Mom, and I'm sure that he'd like to forget about her and what happened. That's the way he's always been."  
  
With a shrug, the woman speared a piece of cucumber from her salad and chewed it thoughtfully for a moment. "At least he's making an effort, Ana. You said that he mentioned Tara. That's a huge step, considering that he never talks about her. Not even to me, and I'm the only one that knows that he was married before."  
  
Sighing, the teenager looked out the window next to her, watching a group of laughing tourists walk by. "I know, but he talks about her like he never met her, just heard about her. He never calls her by name. It's always 'your mom'. I know that she's dead, but at least I can talk about the memories I have of her."  
  
"You don't remember that much about her, though. You've told me that before. You were the really young when it happened. I mean, I still have trouble talking about it, and you were there when it happened. That really freaked Grissom out. I still remember how he was shaking when he opened the door to let me in."  
  
Throwing her hands in the air to show her frustration, she looked back at her old baby-sitter. "I know, Sara, but he basically abandoned me a few months later. He could barely look at me when I was there. Even I remember that. Yes, I remember more of the aftermath than before it happened, and it still bothers me, but...this is just ridiculous. It's like we're too strangers. He has no idea what I'm like, and I don't know how to act around him. I have no idea what I can get away with, for Christ's sake."  
  
The woman laughed lightly. "You don't know if you can swear, or if you have a curfew. Does he even know that you smoke?" Anastasia shook her head. "Oh, he's going to flip when he hears that. Do you know that he used to smoke? He told me that both him and Tara quit when they found out that she was pregnant the first time, and never started up again."  
  
Her brow furrowed. "Mom was pregnant before? I never knew that."  
  
Sara nodded. "Yeah, but she lost the baby really soon. Like two weeks after she found out. The doctors told her that there was probably something wrong with it, so it self-aborted. But when they found out that she was pregnant with you, they were supposedly really careful. But, as far as I know, there was nothing wrong with you when you were born." As she spoke, she started to hunt around in her salad for another piece of cucumber.  
  
"You know more about my past than I do. And I have no intention of telling Dad that I smoke. He probably thinks that he can still take me out to the woodshed for a couple of minutes."  
  
Wrinkling her nose, she laughed. "You don't have a woodshed. Maybe over his knee, but you'd fight back as much as possible." Pointing her fork at the teenager, she warned her, choosing her words carefully. "I may keep a lot of your secrets, and there's a lot that I would do for you, Ana, but there is no way in hell that I'm going to keep this quiet. He's going to find out eventually, and it's better if you just come out and tell him, because I'm not going to be supplying you with cigarettes. I quit about a year ago myself."  
  
"I probably should, but I know that it's ninety nine point nine percent willpower, and point one percent Nicorette. I just can't see myself doing it right now, really, especially since I've suddenly got someone playing the role of the concerned father, something that I'm not used to."  
  
Leaning across the table, Sara lowered her voice as if someone was going to overhear them. "Want to know a secret? Grissom's been concerned about you the whole time that you've been gone. I've heard him talking to himself every now and then about calling the headmistress of whatever school you're at, and finding out how you're doing. I'm the only one that ever knew what he was talking about, but a day doesn't go by that he doesn't wonder about who your friends are, or what you did on the weekend. He's stopped himself from calling you a lot of times, because he knows that you only expect a monthly call. Anything else would mean that someone died."  
  
Shaking her head, she looked down at her empty plate, where her grilled sea bass had been. "I figured as much, but it was sort of disheartening to think that he wasn't concerned. I told him that it didn't bother me, but it does. I could understand if I didn't have a father, but I do. He's the only family that I have left, really. I never see my cousins or my uncle and aunt. They both think that Mom's death was his fault, so that means that I'm just another black sheep of the family."  
  
"Well, it doesn't help that he has all of those little treats in his office, either."  
  
Anastasia raised her hand to cut her off. "I know. I can't stand being in there. He, at least, keeps the townhouse somewhat normal for when I come by, but that office belongs in a circus sideshow or something. I never understood his fascination with bugs. I take pride in every spider that gets flushed down the toilet, every ant that I step on, every mosquito I kill, and every crushed fly on the windshield. If I asked Dad if he knew who...Alien Ant Farm was, he's probably say that it was a bug museum in Milwaukee or something."  
  
Laughing, the woman pushed her plate to the side. "Where did you learn that one?"  
  
"One of my roommates loved that song they covered. I prefer the Michael Jackson version, myself, but Alan Jackson is more my speed," she giggled. "I'm serious, though. Usually, the generation gap is pretty bad between a father and a daughter. For us, it's more like the width of the Grand Canyon. And it'll never get smaller."  
  
"You have a chance, though, to get to know him finally," Sara told her with a smile. "Come on, let's order dessert, and you can tell me about France. I've always wanted to go there."  
  
**********  
  
Humming to herself, Anastasia walked up the brick steps that led to the front door, listening as the taxi driver pulled away, before she tried to turn the door knob. Frowning when the door didn't open, she knocked on the wood loudly. "Dad, it's me," she called, hearing the lock unsnap before the door opened to let her in finally. "I really need to get a key or something," she said, as she slipped off her jacket and walked into the living room, dropping it on an armchair. "You know, we really...okay, what are you doing, living our your Dragnet fantasies or something?" she asked suddenly, turning around to look at Grissom.  
  
"What are you talking about?" he asked innocently, even though she could tell that it was forced.  
  
Her hands rested on her hips as she nodded towards the gun. "If I was on a date or something, I would figure that you'd either want to fingerprint them, or pull out the double barrel shot gun, but this was just dinner with Sara. Or is there something that you're not telling me? Have you been watching too much Law and Order again? Last time you did, you wanted me to become a district attorney."  
  
As soon as she finished talking, the phone rang, making both of them jump. Rolling her eyes, she went towards it when he didn't move. "Don't answer that, Anastasia," he warned her.  
  
"It's probably Sara, or someone that you work with," she said, cutting off whatever else he was going to say as she picked up the receiver. "Hello?"  
  
A man's voice greeted her on the other end. "Hi, there. May I speak to Gil Grissom, please?"  
  
She raised her eyebrows at the movement her dad was doing, motioning for her to hang up the phone. "May I ask who's speaking?" she asked as politely as she could muster. When she got her answer, she smiled brightly. "I'm sorry, Mr. Hill, but I think you have the wrong number. No one lives here by that name. What number were you trying to call?" Nodding her head, she waved her father away with one hand. "No, you definitely have the wrong number. You must have dialed 5429 instead of 5428. Bye." Hanging up the phone, she turned to look at her dad.  
  
"I told you not to answer it," he said, when the phone rang again.  
  
Her eyes rolled as she picked up the phone. "Hello?" She paused and smiled again. "No, you've got the wrong number again. That's all right, Mr. Hill. Have a nice night. Bye now." Putting the phone down, she raised a single eyebrow, a trait she had picked up from Grissom. "The only Hill that either of us know is Faith, and I personally haven't had the chance to meet her. Have you?"  
  
Looking confused, he shook his head. "What...no. What are you talking about?"  
  
"The fact that there's definitely something that you're not telling me." Smirking, she motioned to the couch. "Un-holster the gun and sit down, because you can't keep me in the dark if this involves me. Maybe it's time that we talked," she added sarcastically before sitting down herself.  
  
**********  
  
"Lesson In Leaving" by Jo Dee Messina, and the Alabama Medley are both found on Country Heat 2000 (but the Jo Dee Messina song is found on about ten other CDs, too). And yes, there really is an old '45 called "Elvis and the Space Invaders" or something similar. I used to have it around when I was younger. If you can find it, or have it, it's great for a laugh.   
  
And E.T. is scary. 


	3. Chapter Three- Nightmares

Title- Everything's Changed  
Author- pepsicolagurl  
Rating- R for language and violence  
  
Notes- Same disclaimer as before. And, for the basis of this story, and invoking my use of creative license (how many times has that already happened in this story?), the Las Vegas Crime Lab is mysteriously connected to the police station. If it isn't already. I don't exactly pay much attention to that.   
  
Chapter Three  
  
"I'll be fine," Anastasia groaned, dropping her head in her hands. "Look, there's a baseball bat in the closet. Worse comes to worse, I bat for the cycle against this guy's head. Besides, he's not going to bother us. It's probably just some poor guy that had the wrong number, like I've been saying for the past hour."  
  
With a shake of his head, her father crossed his arms and assumed the stance she had seen so many times. The one that meant that she wasn't going to get away with whatever it was she wanted to, whether it was stealing a cookie from the fresh batch that her mom had just made, or the tongue piercing that she had wanted last year. So far, she was zero for two. The only difference was, this time, her dad had a gun, and it frightened her slightly. "You don't know that for sure, Anastasia, and I don't want to take that risk."  
  
"Oh, so you want me to spend a night in your office, while you go gallivanting around and dancing the tango with dead bodies, or whatever the hell it is you do? You want me to sleep on the couch in your office, staring at that God awful...whatever you have embalmed in that jar. And no, don't tell me. I don't want to know. I just want to know one thing about it. Is it in animal?" When he nodded, she turned her head and gagged. "I think I'm going to become a vegetarian, like Sara. That's sick."  
  
Sighing, he leaned back against the wall. "Again, I have a feeling that you won't major in science in college. I was hoping that you would."  
  
Raising a hand, she chuckled lightly. "One science geek is enough in this family. Dad, I had to run to the bathroom and throw up when they wanted us to dissect a sheep's eye. I just couldn't do it. I could barely do the earthworm one, and the frog...that was out of the question. I'm just not a science type of person...but we're getting off track here. We weren't talking about my sudden major that you've already picked out."  
  
"We're talking about the phone calls, and what you're going to do. Which is come with me to the lab, where I can keep an eye on you and make sure that nothing happens. Even if I'm not there, there's plenty of police officers in the building-"  
  
"And all I have to do is yell, 'Help, the son of a bitch is raping me', and boom, thirty guys with guns and beer bellies come to my rescue. I know that, Dad, but did you ever take MY choice into consideration? Maybe I don't want to sleep in a room filled with creepy crawlies that I would much rather attack with a can of Raid. If you make me go, I'm going to head down to the store and buy thirty cans of that crap. I'm warning you, right now."  
  
Grissom sighed, rubbing his eyes. "Anastasia, please don't do this. You're being ridiculous."  
  
Jumping up off the couch, she pointed her finger at him. "No, you're the one that's being ridiculous. I'm sixteen, almost seventeen. I can take care of myself. Like I said, all I have to do is leave the Louisville Slugger by the door, and if someone comes, I'll make sure that the bat lives up to its name. And would you take that damned thing off? You're going to shoot yourself in the foot or something."  
  
Looking down at the gun, he spoke dryly. "It's regulations that we have them now, and it's nowhere near my foot. Besides, I have to go to the lab in twenty minutes, and you will be coming with me."  
  
"When hell freezes over, and I'll make sure that I have plenty of rock salt with me, just in case that ever happens," she spat out. "I'm going to go lock myself in my room. And I'll be sure to barricade the door. And I'll be ready with the bat. Just try and get in," she warned as she headed towards the stairs. "Don't call me, either. I want to get some sleep. I'm not used to staying up all night," she added with a yawn.   
  
A moment of silence enveloped the entire townhouse, before he finally shouted after her, his parenting skills finally kicking in, albeit a little slowly. "Anastasia Tara Grissom," he called in warning.  
  
Her laughter floated down the stairs towards him. "Grissom-Davidson, actually," she shouted back before her door slammed. "Have a good night at work!"  
  
**********  
  
With her jean jacket flapping behind her, Sara hurried to catch up with Grissom as he walked towards the entrance of the building. "Hey," she said breathlessly when she was walking side by side with him. "I know how Ana's doing with you, but how are you doing with Ana?" she asked curiously.  
  
He looked over at her and shook his head. "Whatever happened to 'how's your day been'?" he asked himself. "How would you think I'm doing with her?"  
  
"Is that rhetorical?" she asked before shaking her head as well, as he opened the door for her. She walked in and headed over to the front desk immediately, signing and noting down the time before waiting for him to do the same. As soon as they started walking through the familiar hallways, she brought up the subject again. "You know, she and I had a long talk during dinner."  
  
His sigh was almost silent as they headed towards the break room. "And?"  
  
Smiling, she looked away. "And what? Did you want to know what we talked about?"  
  
"That would generally be the idea after you say something like that." Seeing her stubborn expression, he resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "I faintly remember you being this bad when I tried to pay you double for baby-sitting on New Years Eve. You didn't take the money, either, did you?"  
  
"Nope. Besides, I didn't have a date. When do I have a date for New Years?" she asked herself. Shaking her head, she hurried to catch up with him. "Besides me asking about where she went on vacations and what it was like, since I never get a chance to go to Paris or Hawaii, we talked about the two of you." He opened the door to the break room, allowing her to enter before him again. "Actually, that was the majority of the discussion. Remember, I never said any of this to you."  
  
He nodded, his interest piqued. "Sure, go on."  
  
Walking over to the coffee machine in the corner, she grabbed her usual mug and poured herself a cup, watching him curiously. "She's...confused, and with good reason. I mean, she knew who you were when she was younger. And then she got to know a different side of you when you started to ship her off all around the country. Now, she doesn't know who you are, and you're not helping matters anymore."  
  
Raising his hand, he cut her off, knowing what she was going to say. She always brought up his wife at this point in the discussion, and he didn't want to hear it. He had managed to avoid it the last four times that Anastasia had come up in seemingly innocent conversation. "Sara, please. Not tonight."  
  
"Why not? Look, she knows how much it bothers you that she looks so much like Tara, and it bothers her that it bothers you. She's just trying to understand who she is. It's a tough age. I remember. You may not, but I do, and it wasn't a walk in the park. But she has to deal with the fact that her mom was killed right in front of her, and that you won't even mention her." Her head turned when the door opened again, and a mischievous smile spread on her face when she saw who it was and where they were heading. "Besides, Ana's living with you now."  
  
Catherine Willows slid to a stop, her eyes as wide as could be as she looked between the two of them. "Whoa, wait a second. Someone's living with you?" she asked her shift supervisor with a surprised look. "How come I wasn't informed of this?"  
  
Sara only smiled more brightly, knowing that as soon as Catherine knew, the news was going to be around the lab quicker than she could whistle 'London Bridges'. She wouldn't have been surprised if it made it all the way to the police side of the building, either. Grissom, on the other hand, didn't look as happy about the news being out. "Yes, someone is living with me."  
  
"Someone named...Anna, did you say, Sara?"  
  
Shaking her head, she smiled again. "Ana. Like 'awning', but with an 'ah' at the end, instead of an 'ing'. Short for Anastasia."  
  
Pouring herself a cup of coffee, she nodded. "Judging by the name, she sounds like your typical Barbie doll. Blonde hair, big boobs, and a lot of space between the ears. I never knew that you were seeing someone. Why am I always left out of the loop?"  
  
"Because you have the biggest mouth," Grissom sighed.  
  
Both of her eyebrows shot up. "Excuse me? I didn't deserve that."  
  
"Ana's not his girlfriend. In fact, that thought frightens me," Sara added with a grin. "And she's not a roommate, either."  
  
Rolling her eyes, Catherine sighed theatrically. "Don't tell me that you're picking up strays. If this is just the name of a spider or some other insect of yours, I'll kill you."  
  
Shaking her head, the brunette answered for him. "No, she only has two legs, and she's human. Come on, take a guess. This is so much fun," she added with a chuckle. "I'll give you a hint. She's not a friend, either."  
  
"The only other thing that I can come up with is family member. What is she, a niece? An aunt with bright red lipstick that you absolutely hate? Tell me. I hate not knowing anything."  
  
"No wonder you're in such a bad mood all day," Sara coughed. "Family member, yes. Niece or aunt, not. Get this, Grissom has a daughter."  
  
Her mouth dropped open. "Daughter?"  
  
"Daughter."  
  
"Teenager or toddler?"  
  
"Sixteen."  
  
"Ouch," Catherine said quickly, taking a sip of coffee. "I take back my comment about the Barbie doll. Wow, a daughter. A teenager no less. That's got to be rough. I remember what it was like to be that age. All the parties, and sneaking around behind my...well, you probably don't want to hear about that."  
  
He shook his head firmly. "No, I most certainly don't. It's bad enough that I have to watch out for her now. To know that most teenagers do what you were about to say is frightening enough. If she isn't going to give me a heart attack, you two will." Frowning, he looked away. "I don't remember acting like that when I was a teenager."  
  
Both women gaped at him for a moment before they broke into laughter. "Please," the brunette began. "It's safe to say that she acts more like her-"  
  
His head snapped back up as she was speaking and he quickly broke her off. "I have to get something from my office. Excuse me," he said quietly, walking out of the room quickly. Sara sighed and shook her head. She knew better than to mention Tara in conversation, but she tried anyway. To attempt to mention her in front of anyone else...well, that was a mistake that practically meant the end of the world.  
  
"What was that all about?" Catherine asked, tilting her head towards the door as she spoke. "I have a feeling that this is going to be a hell of a strange night. I never knew that he had a kid, and a teenager at that. Damn, what's next? Don't tell me that he's i the middle of a custody battle, too."  
  
"I wish," Sara said quietly. "It would definitely make this a little easier to understand." Looking up, she smiled and gestured to the door. "Go spread the rumor. I know you want to. I'll give you first shot at it, but I'm not answering any more questions. Grissom will never forgive me if I say anything else, and he already thinks that I've said too much."  
  
Nodding, Catherine grinned. "So I noticed. If you'll excuse me, I think I just saw Nick. He'll help me spread this a little further," she said with a little laugh before heading out the door.  
  
**********  
  
Anastasia smiled, pushing her hands in her jeans pockets. That was the number one rule, no matter where she went when they were shopping. If her hands were in her pockets, she couldn't touch anything. If she didn't have pockets, her hands had to be behind her back. The elderly woman at the small craft store always gave her a lollipop when they were leaving, because she was such a well behaved child.   
  
"Mommy, look at that," she cried in a tiny voice, nodding towards a display a few feet away. After all, it was impolite to point, something that her father taught her awhile back. "Can we buy one?"  
  
Tara laughed, struggling to take her wallet out of her purse, trying to keep an eye on her young daughter the same time that she was watching the bags she had put on the ground. "Stand right here, Ana. I'll be just a second, and then we can go over there and look, all right?"  
  
"But it's blue. It's a blue teddy bear. I always wanted a blue one," she pouted, kicking one foot on the ground.   
  
"You just got a new teddy bear, remember? Grandma just gave you that pretty white one," she said, as she finally pulled out the leather wallet, and started to work on the clasp of the change part, cursing under her breath when she chipped a nail against it.  
  
Anastasia looked from her mom to the display of stuffed animals, a mischievous smile spreading on her face as her head turned from side to side. She watched as her mom started to count out shiny coins, sliding back a few steps, but keeping her eyes on her mother. When she didn't notice, she moved back a little quicker, before turning around and moving her little sneaker clad feet quicker, running towards the display.  
  
When she turned her head to say something to her daughter, Tara noticed she wasn't standing there, and immediately, panic went over her like a wave, before she saw the little blonde haired girl running towards the stuffed animals. "Anastasia," she called over the din of voices around here. "Get back here."  
  
Just as Anastasia turned to look at her mother with an apologetic look on her face for running off, something that sounded suspiciously like the fire crackers she heard around their neighborhood around Hallowe'en, echoed throughout the mall. Her mouth dropped open as someone grabbed her from behind, tugging on her tee shirt to pull her back, before a strange woman held her back. She remembered what her parents had taught her about "the bad people", and started to squirm from side to side. "Let me go. My mommy is over there," she cried, beating at the hands that were holding her.  
  
All around her, screams and shouts sounded. Tears started to fall when she heard someone call someone else a son of a bitch, the words scaring her. She had only heard her father swear once, and it had frightened her before. "It's all right," the woman tried to soothe her.   
  
The child only cried harder. "No, I want my mommy. You're not my mommy. I want my daddy," she screamed, hitting the woman's hands harder in a vain attempt to get away.  
  
"I'll help you find your mom in a minute. Just be quiet for a little while," the woman said, trying to calm her down. Anastasia made her hands into fists and started to rub her eyes, wiping away the tears as a group of security guards started to run by them. The woman saw them go by, and saw everyone else starting to stand up and look around. As she stood, Anastasia slipped out of her grasp and started to run away.   
  
She followed behind her, before the child stopped in her tracks, looking at where she had been standing before. "Why isn't my mommy getting up? Is she sleeping?" she asked, her little chest heaving as she took a deep breath. "I need to go to my mommy."  
  
As she started away, the woman grabbed her from the back of the shirt again, pulling her back. Anastasia made a face as she rubbed her neck, thinking about how mad her father would be when he heard what happened to her. "That's your mom?" the woman asked, crouching down to look the girl in the eyes, turning her away.  
  
She nodded, blonde hair bouncing. "Yes, that's my mommy. She...she has a...she hurt herself. Did she cut her finger? That's what mine looked like when I cut mine." Looking over her shoulder, she turned back to the woman, a frantic look entering her dark brown eyes. "Why isn't Mommy getting up?"  
  
A security guard that had been passing by stopped and looked down at the little girl before turning to the woman. "Did she say that the woman over there is her mom?" he asked. When the woman nodded, he bent down beside the girl like she had done. "What's your name, sweetie?"  
  
Shaking her head, she crossed her arms and frowned. "My daddy said that I'm not supposed to talk to strangers, and you're a stranger, so I can't talk to you."  
  
He had obviously been expecting her to say that, and he reached up to slip the gold badge he wore away from his shirt, showing it to her. "Do you know what this means?"  
  
This time, she nodded. "You're a police officer. My daddy works with police officers. He said that he helps them with the bad guys. Are you looking for a bad guy?" The man hesitated for a second before nodding. "Maybe my daddy is going to help, then."  
  
"Well, I need your name so that I can get your dad to help me. My name is Ted, so what's yours?" he asked.  
  
She smiled brightly. "It's nice to meet you, sir," she said politely, the way she had been taught. "My name is Anastasia Tara Grissom, but my mommy and my baby-sitter call me Ana or Stacey. My daddy calls me Princess. My baby-sitter's name is Sara. I can spell all of them, too."  
  
"Do you want to come with me so that we can call your daddy, Stacey?"  
  
She was about to look over her shoulder again before the man stopped her, keeping her facing him. "But what about my mommy? I...I need to stay with my mommy."  
  
"My friends will stay with your mom, all right? They're police officers, too. They'll be with your mom, and we can call your dad to come and see you. Come on, sweetie," he said, taking her hand and leading her away.  
  
**********  
  
With a gasp, Anastasia opened her eyes and looked around the unfamiliar room. She kicked at her blankets, trying to get her legs untangled as she sat up and ran a hand through her hair, taking a deep breath. Ever since her father had dropped the bombshell that her mother's killer was out of jail, she had the same dream every time she fell asleep, whether it was in her room or just nodding off when she was watching television.  
  
It wasn't a dream that she liked to have, and it always stopped at the same spot. But she could remember what happened afterwards, very clearly. She had waited in a small room with the security guard who wasn't really a police officer, asking to see her mother every few minutes. It had been twenty minutes, but it felt like hours, before her father came in to see her, immediately picking her up and holding her so tight she thought that she wouldn't be able to breathe.   
  
She didn't understand at the time why Tara wasn't going home with them, and why a police officer drove them back to their house, instead of taking their car. They had went home, and she remembered crying from her mom, asking why she wasn't there with them, but her father never answered her. Instead, Sara had come over and taken her in her room and told her what had happened. That someone had hurt her mom, that she wouldn't be coming back. She didn't really understand why she wouldn't be coming, but it had been Sara that had stayed with her when she cried, not her father.   
  
Usually, it was something that happened in the past for Anastasia, but now it felt like it had just happened yesterday. She felt her eyes filling with tears as she fell back against her pillows, staring at the white ceiling, as she tried to think of something else, anything.   
  
It had really been the beginning of the end for any relationship that she may have had with her father. It was then that he started to act different, almost impassive whenever he spoke to her or looked at her. It hadn't been long after that, that she started her years in boarding and private schools. That had only furthered the indifference between the two of them.  
  
Now, it was like they were two strangers that were forced to live together. He knew the basic things about her that anyone else would know after spending a week with her. What music she listened to, what she liked to eat, what she liked to wear. But he didn't know that she dated a guy last year that had broken her heart and made it feel like it was the end of her world. He didn't know that she preferred lime lip gloss to anything else. He didn't know that she carried a worn picture of her and her parents in her wallet, hidden behind her student identification card.   
  
Those were the things that Sara knew, because she wrote her, called her, and asked. He never asked about those things. He asked how she was, and expected her to say that she was fine. How her grades were, and expected her to say that they hadn't changed. If she needed any more money, and expected her to say no. And that was it.  
  
Sara had made a comment about how the two of them would finally have a chance to get to know each other. She was starting to doubt that it could ever happen.   
  
"I feel like I'm trapped in some God awful soap opera," she groaned before throwing the blankets off of her and standing up. The last thing she wanted to do was go back to sleep and dream about her again. 


	4. Chapter Four- Delivery

Title- Everything's Changed  
Author- pepsicolagurl  
Rating- R for language and violence  
Notes- Same disclaimer as before.   
  
Chapter Four  
  
Closing the passenger side door a little too hard, she winced when she saw the look that Grissom gave her. "Sorry," she said innocently, throwing her wallet ontop of the dash board before reaching for her seat belt. "So, are we finally done or are you going to pull over so that I can get some coffee?"  
  
"Twelve cups wasn't enough for you?" he asked mildly, starting the engine.  
  
Her head shook. "No, not when I know that a white chocolate mocha is calling my name. And you really need to get a bigger coffee maker. I mean, this four cup thing isn't going to work if I'm supposed to be out here for any length of time."  
  
His eyes flicked over to her as he pulled out of the parking space. "Maybe the coffee machine isn't the problem. Maybe the amount of coffee you drink is the problem."  
  
She grinned brightly as she leaned forward to scan through the radio stations. "I take offense to that, Dad. You know, I was the first one up every morning at school, so that I could make coffee in our kitchen, and as soon as it opened, I was the first one in the cafeteria for coffee."  
  
"I didn't know that you had to cook there. I thought all the meals were in the cafeteria."  
  
Shaking her head, she stopped playing with the radio and opened up the console between them to see what CDs had been left in there. "We only had to cook on the weekends. It was two rooms to a kitchen, and we had to cook for the younger kids, too, but it was cool. All the food was supplied for us, and anything that we didn't have, we just stole from the home economics room. I guess they were getting us ready for the Kraft Dinner college days."  
  
Shaking his head, he looked to see what disc she pulled out before turning his attention back to the road. "If they could afford to put their kids in that school, they can more than afford restaurant meals for college. Then again, that tuition could make anyone poor."  
  
"Then why did you put me in that school?" Holding up a hand, she paused in putting in the CD and stopped him before he could say anything. "No, really, Dad. I know that you have a lot in savings and everything, but you can't really afford to send me to these expensive schools. Especially with the amount of money that you were putting into my bank account every month. I was lucky if I spent half of it. Why would you spend all that money on it?" Holding her breath, she waited to see what his excuse was going to be.  
  
However, Grissom went for the easiest answer, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. It was too obvious to her that he was lying. "It had a terrific academic program."  
  
With a smirk, she pushed in the disc and leaned back, crossing her arms. "Nice try, but wrong answer. Why can't you just tell me the truth, which would be that the school was far enough away that you knew I wasn't going to be around all that much, if at all. Florida and Nevada are a far distance away from each other. I do know how to read a map, you know."  
  
"It may have been far away, but it was a good school," he repeated, frowning slightly when he heard her sarcastic laugh.  
  
"Exactly my point. Look at where you've sent me. When you were in California, I was in Connecticut, and then Virginia. You move to Las Vegas, I go to Oahu, then Texas, New York, and finally Orlando. I've seen more of the world than most people will in their entire lives. Every time you put me in a new school, you make sure that it's a long enough plane ride that I can't come to see you on the weekends, and whenever vacations come around, you'd rather send me off with friends than have me come home."  
  
He frowned again. "Anastasia, what are you trying to say?"  
  
Leaning her head against the window, she watched the road for a moment before mumbling loud enough to be heard over the lightly playing music. "Oh, you mean that you actually want to hear what I have to say?"  
  
"That's not fair. I've always listened to what you have to say."  
  
Her eyes rolled. "Yeah, you listen, but then you immediately forget whatever it is that I've said. I mean, come on, Dad, you thought that I played field hockey. I've told you at least five times that I can't stand the game. You should have known that." Before he could say anything, she went on. "You want to know what I'm trying to say? You already know, but if you need to hear it, I'll ask the question that I've always wondered about. Why the hell didn't you just put me up for adoption or something?"  
  
They both went silent, working through their own thoughts. Just when she thought that her father wasn't going to answer, he started to speak. "First off, watch your language. You're only sixteen and you're too young to start cursing-"  
  
"START cursing? I've been doing that since I was ten. I probably hold the record for saying 'fuck' in one day. Besides, you curse just as much as I do. You don't think I've heard you? A little piece of news for you, Dad. The walls are really thin."  
  
"Anastasia, I told you to watch it. I don't care if I curse from time to time, but you are not to repeat any of it. Do you understand me?"  
  
Rolling her eyes again, she laughed and faced him. "Oh, I understand perfectly. Do as I say, not as I do, right? That's very hypocritical."  
  
"Were you on the debate team or something?" he asked under his breath, before sighing. "What were we talking about before, anyway."  
  
"The fact that you basically abandoned me. I want to know why you didn't just try and pawn me off on someone else. I mean, you haven't really cared all that much about my upbringing, or else you wouldn't have sent me all around the country in hopes of not seeing me. I just want an explanation, that's all. Not that you explain very much to me."  
  
He grew still again, thinking of how to answer a question like that. For so many years, he had been expecting her to ask him that, and he still hadn't thought up an answer. At the rate that the two of them were going, he figured that he had until she was married with three kids...although that thought frightened him just as much. "I'm doing the best that I can, Anastasia. It's not easy to do this by myself, especially with a teenager like you."  
  
Her eyes darkened with anger. "Mind explaining that one?"  
  
"I'm not saying that you're impossible. And you do have good grades, I'll give you that. It's just that you have a problem with getting in trouble more than a normal teenager does. I've been told of many instances when you've snuck out of the school grounds when you weren't supposed to. You've talked back to your teachers...you even started a fight with another girl."  
  
Very slowly, she turned away from him and looked out the windshield. "A normal teenager? Are you saying that I'm not normal?"  
  
"Bad choice of words." Sighing, he turned into the townhouse complex, tapping one finger on the wheel. "It's just that you haven't made it easy for me, and you've been doing it on purpose."  
  
"Yeah, it's called asking for attention, something that you rarely give me. Dad, just answer the question. Do you want me around or not? It's a simple question, and all it requires is a simple answer."  
  
Stopping, he looked over at her with a surprised look. "How can you even ask me that question? You're my only child and you shouldn't have to ask that question. You should know the answer automatically."  
  
Her eyes blazed with anger again. "You're right, I should know the answer. But I don't. I don't know the answer and I sure as hell don't know you. That's the problem. Ever since Mom was killed, you act like I have the plague or something. You can't be bothered to spend time with me. You can't even let me know what you've done recently, because that would mean that you and I would have to talk, something that you're obviously against. I just want to know if you're keeping me around because of your obligation as a father, or if you truly want me here. Honestly, Dad, if you weren't so paranoid about this guy coming back, would you have asked me to come back?"  
  
But there was no way that he could answer that. Only because he knew that he wouldn't have called her and asked if she was coming out on her next vacation. That wasn't something that he did, and both of them were quite comfortable with how they lived their lives. Or so he believed. "I can't..."  
  
"Can't answer it. Yeah, I know." Unfastening her seat belt, she unlocked her door and opened it, taking hold of her wallet and backpack. "I'm walking the rest of the way. Maybe on the short ride back, you can think of some answer that should satisfy the both of us, but I won't be satisfied with anything but the truth. Something that you've never been able to offer me." Sliding down to the ground, she slammed the door shut and started to walk to the sidewalk, keeping her eyes on the ground.  
  
She had no idea where the question had come from. She wouldn't deny that she thought of it before, and she had thought to ask him before, but she never did. It just seemed to slip out before she could stop it. The changes in her life recently, having her father around her for a good amount of time, was still something that she had to get used to, and they were both still uncomfortable, but she had a feeling that she had made it worse than it had been before.  
  
By the time she had opened the door, he had already gotten inside and was waiting for her when she walked in. Keeping her eyes away from him, she kicked off the sneakers she was wearing and dropped her things by the door before walking past him to the kitchen. "Don't tell me you're just going to leave it at this," Grissom said when she completely ignored him.  
  
She kept quiet while she poured herself a glass of orange juice, until she put the container back and faced him. "Why don't you ever talk about her?" she asked quietly, tilting her head to the side. "Whenever you do, it's like you never knew who she was. Why is it always 'your mother' and you never call her by name."  
  
"Anastasia, don't," he warned, turning to walk away.  
  
"No. You wanted to keep this discussion going, and now you're walking away. Why don't you talk about her? You were married, for Christ's sake. She was my mother. I don't know anything about her, because you never talk about her. Sara knows more about her than I do."  
  
Looking over his shoulder, he nodded. "Then go ask her about your mother. But don't ask me."  
  
Groaning, she turned back to pick up her glass before following him into the living room. "You can barely look at me because I look like her. You changed my name so that it was hers. Tara Davidson. God, it's been ten years. You think you'd be able to sit down and tell me about her. Tell me what she liked, what I have in common with her. I barely knew my mom, and I'll never have the chance to do what most kids take for granted. I want to know my mom, just like how they all know their mothers." Putting her glass on the table, she faced him with her hands on her hips. "Do you know how hard it is to go on all those vacations with my friends and their families? See how they are together, and know that I can never have that sort of relationship with my mom, and my dad doesn't seem to want any type of relationship with me."  
  
Sinking down on the couch, he rubbed his eyes. "Please don't do this."  
  
"I deserve to know. It still hurts me, too. It doesn't matter how many different schools you send me to, or how many different psychologists you send me to, it'll always hurt. I understand that, but it has been over ten years. You'd think by now you'd be able to tell me something. I want to know her just like everyone else seemed to, and you won't let me. She's six feet under, Dad."  
  
"Don't talk about your mother that way."  
  
"Her name was Tara. Can you even say that anymore? Tara Meredith Davidson. It's not hard to say, and you've definitely said it before. I just...God, this is stupid. I don't know why I'm trying to justify this to someone that doesn't even care. That's it, isn't it? You don't care about me, or what I want, or anything to do with me. It's all what you want." Shaking her head, she picked up her glass and looked at him. "Why don't you stop being so selfish, even if it's just for a few minutes. You know that I deserve to know this, but you won't tell me shit all. I should get it from you, not from my old baby-sitter, but it looks like I have no choice. Sometimes...sometimes, Dad, I don't know why you even bother to keep me around."  
  
He started to say something, but she had already turned and started up the stairs, her feet pounding on them moments before her door slammed shut.   
  
**********  
  
"Are you talking to me yet?" Grissom asked a few hours later, watching as his daughter finished cutting a piece of roast chicken breast into strips, tossing it ontop of her rice. She turned her head to look at him coldly before looking back down at her bowl. "I guess not."   
  
"Whatever gave you that idea?" she asked sarcastically, rolling her eyes as she picked it up and carried it to the table, sitting down at one end where she had left the novel she had been reading that afternoon.   
  
Shrugging, he followed her and sat down at the other end of the table. "Well, that's an improvement. At least you're saying something."  
  
Picking up her book, she reached for her glass of water and took a sip as she started to read. "And every word that comes out of my mouth is meant to be laced with the most sarcasm I can muster. Besides, the silent treatment doesn't work all that well."  
  
"Can you please put down the book? I'd prefer it if you didn't read while you're having dinner, thank you." Her eyes raised to look at him hotly as she slowly lowered the book back down and dutifully picked at her dinner, not eating any of it. "Out of curiosity, Anastasia, how long is this mood going to last?"  
  
She gave him a one shouldered shrug before finally taking a bite of rice. "Let's see if you can do some basic math. Add together one teenage girl and the worst case of PMS you've ever seen. How long do you think this is going to last? Of course, you wouldn't know that, because you haven't been around me, have you?"  
  
He was silent for a moment, before sighing lightly. "If you can't speak to me without civility, don't talk at all. And don't talk with your mouth full, either. Your mother and I taught you better than that."  
  
Her fork clattered as she dropped it back in the bowl with a scowl. "Again, you talk about her like you never knew her. Excuse me for a moment." Pushing back from the table, she saw his curious look and plastered a smile on her face. "I forgot to get the mail this morning, and the school is forwarding mine here for awhile. I'm expecting a letter from Hawaii. I need at least one bright spot in my day before I eat, and everything that had to do with you...well, it sucked."   
  
Closing his eyes, he sighed more deeply after she walked out the door, slamming it behind her. He had thought that maybe, just maybe, while she had been staying with him, he would have a chance to actually get to know her, despite all the times that he had pushed her away. And it definitely wasn't working out the way that he thought it might have. She had a right to ask those questions about her mother, but to him, they were the wrong questions. It had been a little over ten years since Tara had been killed, but it still wasn't enough time for him. There wasn't enough time in the world for him.  
  
The door opened as she walked back in, flipping through the envelopes. "Mostly bills, but there's one here for...both of us," she said, dropping it down on the table in front of him, before piling the rest of them on the counter before sitting back down.   
  
He pushed it across the table to her. "Your name is on it before mine. You can open it." He watched as she rolled her eyes and used her thumbnail to push under the flap, before she pulled out a single newspaper clipping. With a frown, she scanned it quickly before getting back up and putting it in front of him. "What was it?"  
  
"Mom's obituary. Read it for yourself if you don't believe me, but I have the same clipping upstairs. Sara sent it to me along with a bunch of other articles when I asked her about it." Falling silent, she rocked on her heels and looked down at the ground. "What if you were right? What if this guy is actually coming after you or me, or both of us, for that matter. God, this is movie of the week quality, not real life."  
  
Looking at her, he stood up and walked to the front door, locking it before she could say anything else. "He's not going to touch you. He was mad at me originally, and he probably still is. You have nothing to do with this."  
  
Adverting her eyes, she wrapped her arms around herself like she was cold. "Mom had nothing to do with it, either," she reminded him. "Look, can't you get a restraining order or something? That'll stop him, and then we don't have to worry about this. It's as simple as that."  
  
"Actually," he began slowly, "it's not. There's no basis for a restraining order. There's no evidence that proves he's doing this. It's not illegal to send someone a newspaper article, and it's not illegal to call someone's house. I'll take the envelope and the clipping with me when I go to work, and see if we can get anything off of it, but both you and I touched the envelope, and the postman had to, too. And you touched the newspaper clipping. That's probably all that's on there."  
  
"If the guy was smart, he wouldn't have licked the envelope, either. I know." Seeing his look, she shrugged with a small smile. "They had something like this once on Law and Order. The headmistress used to let us watch the show with her, and it was kind of interesting. But the postman couldn't have brought this letter to the house. There's no return address. I forgot to put the return address on a letter once, and they couldn't send it. I remember."  
  
He raised an eyebrow, looking at her, before shaking his head. "Maybe there's hope for you, yet," he teased lightly before gesturing to her chair. "Sit down and finish your dinner before it gets cold. You don't have to worry about this."  
  
Taking a deep breath, she nodded. "I wasn't worrying. Not really."  
  
"It's all right to admit that you're scared, Anastasia."  
  
Her head raised as she grinned. "Yeah, and it's all right to admit that you need more time, as long as you promise to give me some answers before I turn thirty."  
  
"I'd say that we're about even." 


	5. Chapter Five- Followed (part one)

Title- Everything's Changed  
Author- pepsicolagurl  
Rating- R for language and violence  
  
Notes- Same disclaimer as before. I probably should have mentioned this, but the actual song that the story is named after doesn't have any meaning to the story. I like the title of it, I love the song, but it has nothing to do with the story. I'm sorry that this chapter took longer, but I've been stuck in front of the television watching hockey and curling. Also, thanks to everyone for the kind reviews. I don't usually write CSI fiction, so I really appreciate the fact that a lot of you like this.   
  
Chapter Five  
  
"If it isn't the exact person that I'm looking for," Catherine said, rubbing her hands together before pulling out a chair and sitting down. "I don't know if you've heard the gossip yet, so I'll fill you in anyway. Apparently, when Grissom came in tonight, he wasn't too happy. He handed an open envelope over to Warrick to be tested for prints, and there was a newspaper clipping inside. An obituary for a Tara Davidson Grissom, actually." Smiling, she crossed her arms on the table and leaned forward. "Spill."  
  
Sara coughed lightly and looked around. "Sorry, can't do it. Like I said the other night, I've already said too much. Go get your information from a first-hand source. I'm just like a...secretary in this situation."  
  
Shaking her head, she sighed. "The secretary always knows more than anyone else, and they always contribute to the gossip. Come on, Sara. Grissom isn't saying a word, and I would love to call his place and see who answers, but he'd kill me if he found out. I'm not exactly crazy about that scenario."  
  
"I'm sorry, but I have to think of Ana, too. She doesn't know half of what I know," she explained. "And I know more about Ana than Grissom knows. I baby-sat the kid. If I won't tell her, why would I tell you?"  
  
Her brow furrowed. "I don't like how you worded that, but whatever." Pausing, her head cocked to the side. "Wait, did you just say that you know more about Grissom's daughter than he does?"  
  
Nodding her head, she sighed. "They aren't exactly on the best of terms, but they're not on the worst, either. They just...don't know each other." Seeing her confused look, she continued. "Ana's been living in schools across the country. He keeps taking her out of one and sending her to another one. They see each other once, maybe twice a year, but no more than that. Not since..."  
  
"Not since the mysterious Tara Davidson Grissom died. Okay, I understand that, but can you at least tell me why the obit says that it was a 'sudden and tragic death'? That is what I don't understand."  
  
Taking a deep breath, she looked around again before lowering her voice. "I can tell you that much. Ana was really young and I had only been baby-sitting her for a year, a year and a half tops. It was one of my days off, actually. I wish it hadn't been." Falling silent, she looked away for a moment. "Tara decided to take Ana shopping with her, rather than call me and have me come over to watch her for an hour or so. When they were at a local mall, Ana ran off and just when Tara noticed...someone shot her. Three bullets to the back. She died before she hit the ground. Ana saw it all, but I don't think she remembers much. At least, she never told me that she does. Some woman grabbed her and pulled her behind a display in the middle of the mall, but the kid saw enough of what happened. She just didn't understand why it happened for years."  
  
Catherine's mouth dropped open for a moment. "Are you saying that it happened for a reason?"  
  
"It was back when Grissom was doing double duty. He was teaching a course at a local college, night classes, and working with the police at the same time. It was all over a strange case, and the husband was looked at as the first suspect. Apparently, there was a lot of evidence on him, but this guy found out about it somehow. They were going to arrest him that afternoon, and he decided to get even. He followed them around, and then finally made his move. I wasn't there, I don't know all the details. Only what Grissom told me, what was in the newspapers, and a few things that Ana told me about two years ago, and she's not clear on everything."  
  
"Damn," she said quietly, shaking her head. "I take it the guy was caught. He had to have been caught."  
  
Sara nodded, pushing her coffee cup away. "Yeah, he went to jail, but he served his time and now he's out. Ana was in Florida for the past year in a boarding school, and Grissom pulled her out it because he's worried, and with good reason. The guy made a threat, outside the courtroom, and he's afraid that he's going to make good on it. I know that Ana thinks that this guy doesn't even remember if he has a daughter or not, but when he made the threat, he made it towards Ana, even though she wasn't there. I don't think he's told her, and I haven't. I'm not saying anything more to her until he starts to."  
  
She was quiet again for a moment. "She must know now," Catherine said quietly. "I saw the envelope. It was addressed to the two of them, and her name was first. And Warrick told me that Grissom said that she was the one that opened it. God, that's got to be rough. But that doesn't explain why he never mentioned her," she added softly.   
  
"Tara's death devastated him. I thought that I had seen a lot back then, but that...that was something new." Leaning over, she pulled her wallet out of her purse and flipped through it for a moment before pulling out a picture and pushing it across the table to her. "That's Ana. She's her mother's daughter, without a doubt. Only Grissom had her name changed when he sent her away, just in case. When she was in school, she went by her middle name and her mother's maiden name. Tara Davidson. But they are somewhat common names, so no one would really associate them. With her looking so much like her mom, and having the same name, I guess it made him think of the past or something. He just started sending her away and kept doing it over and over. It's sad, but that's the way it's been for the two of them, for ten years or so. The only reason that I know this is because I used to baby-sit her, but if I hadn't, I wouldn't have been told about any of this. It's just the way he is now."  
  
With a nod, she continued to examine the picture of the smiling teenager before passing it back. "The way he is now, huh?"  
  
A grin covered her face as she thought back. "Oh, yeah. He was completely different back when Tara was around. She was good for him, and so was Ana. They were happy," she said simply, shrugging her shoulders. "I guess that makes all the difference."  
  
Leaning back in her chair, she looked up at the ceiling and shook her head. "I can't believe this. In the span of one week, my daughter breaks her wrist falling off of a trampoline, and then I find out that I'm not the only single parent here. God, this is been a strange couple of days. Don't tell me that this guy is coming after the two of them. This sounds like a bad novel."  
  
"She broke her wrist? Ouch." She winced sympathetically. "I'm not sure if he is or not, but it seems like someone is. I didn't know about the obit, but Ana did tell me that there's been a few phone calls. She's played them off as wrong numbers, but what else can you do? Grissom tried to make her come here with him, but she says that she's staying at home. All she has to do is choose between sleeping with a baseball bat, a butcher's knife, or a cast iron frying pan."  
  
She laughed as her head came forward again. "That doesn't sound anything like what you would expect from his daughter. What...what are they like around each other?" she asked, changing the subject one more time.   
  
Sara took her time to answer. "Now, they're uncomfortable. That would probably be the best way to put it. But when I used to look after her...that was different. She used to make me tell her when it would be ten minutes until he came home, and as soon as she heard the car pull into the driveway, she would run to whatever hiding spot she had found and wait for him to come and find her. Once, she hid herself so well that no one could find her. Turned out that she fell asleep in the linen closet, behind a stack of blankets. And there was another time that she almost tripped me, when she was hiding under the couch. That was always a favorite of hers. Well, that and the shower, for some reason."  
  
"That sounds like my kid when she was that age. Kids are always great around that age. Now, I have to deal with Britney Spears and her wanting to wear make-up to school."  
  
A smile graced her face quickly. "Grissom only has to worry about her crush on Tim McGraw and any guy that she goes out with. Well, maybe you do have it a little easier. But Ana's pretty responsible, even if she is only sixteen. She's basically lived on her own for years. All of her schools were really big on all the students being self-sufficient."  
  
"I just can't imagine-" She broke off when the door opened, and the father in question walked in, looking curiously at the two women. "Actually, I was looking for you, too," Catherine said with a smile. "I have a quick question for you."  
  
He held up his hand briefly. "Not tonight, please."  
  
"It's nothing personal. I can only get shot down once a week. All I want to know is if you're daughter has baby-sat before."  
  
A confused look covered his face. "I know that every older student looked after a younger student, but other than that, she really hasn't." He started to walk away before stopping. "No, she baby-sat when she was in Oahu last time. Anastasia and a friend looked after the family's other daughter, a few hours every morning, I believe."  
  
"Great," Catherine said with a grin. "My sister is going to be out of town, and so is...well, we're not going to go there without a few curse words, so I'll leave it at that. Anyway, I need someone to look after Lindsay in two days. Do you think she would mind?"  
  
Shaking his head, he crossed his arms. "I can't say. You'd have to ask her. She's up by seven in the morning, if you want to call."  
  
"Sure, thanks. I'll call her in the morning." Standing up, she sent a look towards Sara before walking towards the door. "I better get back to work. My break was over five minutes ago, anyway."  
  
**********  
  
He smiled as he reached for the crocheted blanket at the end of the couch, running his hand across the stitched. Tara had made it, years ago, just before she had found out that she was pregnant with Anastasia. The skill had been passed down in the family, his wife learning it from her Russian grandmother, the woman his daughter had been named after. He had spent so many nights watching her hands work blindly to make the one he was holding, and so many before and after it.  
  
Shaking his head, he pulled it back over his sleeping daughter before moving the telephone away from her hand, putting it back on the table. "Dad?" her sleepy voice asked just as the phone was put down.  
  
"I thought you were asleep," he said, turning back to see her struggling to open her eyes as she yawned.  
  
"I was? The last thing I remember was turning the coffee maker on, and talking to...uh...Catherine Willows? Anyway, did you just get in. You're an hour late."  
  
He nodded as she yawned again and sat up, letting him take the seat beside her. "She said that she was going to call in the morning and see if you wanted to baby-sit. Are you?" Anastasia nodded. "That's fine. Her daughter is an angel, anyway."  
  
"As opposed to me," she said lightly, pulling the blanket closer around her bare legs. "I didn't notice this last time I was out. I didn't think that you had any of Mom's blankets left."  
  
"No, there's one in my room, and one in the hall closet that's supposed to be in your room. I just didn't have enough time to put it in there." Smiling, he looked down at it again. "I remember when Tara made that one, you know. She finished it the day that she found out she was pregnant with you. She used to say that things came in threes, bad or good. I ended up getting a raise the next day."  
  
Her eyes widened when she realized what her father had said, before she looked down at the blanket as well, deciding not to comment on the fact that he had used her first name. "According to Sara, she was almost always right about things like that. She...uh...said that she was pregnant once before she had me, too. Is that true?"  
  
Grissom nodded slightly before sighing. "It was a surprise when we found out that she was pregnant, but it didn't last very long. The doctor stuck by his diagnosis, saying that something had to have been wrong with it. She ended up getting a new doctor." Anastasia chuckled softly. "She wouldn't believe him, but she was extra careful when she found out that you were coming. We both were. The nurses called you a little angel, because all the doctors thought that it was a miracle that she carried you all the way through. For awhile, it looked like you were going to be premature, but you were born right on the due date."  
  
"I was a fighter," she teased. "Always have been, always will be."  
  
"That's for sure," he said dryly, looking down in surprise when she leaned against him, closing her eyes. "After carrying you for nine months, your mom was happy enough when I took her in. She wasn't quite as happy when she was in labour for ten hours, though. You were incredibly stubborn. But eventually, you were born. You cost me two broken fingers. Tara had that strong of a hold on me."  
  
Anastasia laughed harder. "I noticed that in my baby pictures, your hand was bandaged. Just never thought to ask why, I guess. But you can't hold that against me. I've seen all the pictures, and I was a little cutie."  
  
He nodded, looking down at the birthstone ring on her finger. "You were beautiful then...and I guess you still are now."  
  
Her head snapped up as her mouth dropped open. "Okay, who are you and what have you done with me dad. You just made a joke. A mean one, but a joke no less. You must have a fever or something. This has never happened before...or at least as far back as I can remember. God, I really need a cup of coffee."  
  
Laughing to himself, he watched as she jumped off the couch and all but ran for the coffee machine, reaching for the cupboard above her head for a mug. "How was everything here last night?" he asked, his eyes following her movements.  
  
She shrugged and took a sip before hissing at the temperature under her breath. "Very uneventful. I didn't need to use the baseball bat, which is a big disappointment. And I think I just burnt my tongue. What about for you? Anything with the envelope?"  
  
"You were right about how the envelope was closed. It wasn't licked shut." She took a small bow and went back to the couch, sitting down and curling up her legs again. "Besides your fingerprints, there was nothing."  
  
Shaking her head, the teenager took a more cautious sip of her coffee. "Wait...how did you know that my fingerprints would come back? I've never been arrested or printed before. I think I would remember that."  
  
"When you went to the second or third school, they asked if you had it done before. They wanted it for their files, just in case. I think it was Connecticut, but I'm not sure. You've been to so many schools, I can't keep track of them anymore," he said, before looking over at her. "I told you last night not to worry about this. Nothing has really happened yet, and it's too early to say if something is going to happen. But, if something does happen, I'm going to take care of it."  
  
"I know, I know. It has nothing to do with me," she said, before shrugging. "Besides, I'm only sixteen and I don't exactly plan on becoming a real-life Nancy Drew. I swear, she doesn't just have the horseshoe up the a-"  
  
Holding up a hand, he broke her off. "I get it, Anastasia. You really have to work on that cursing thing."  
  
Her eyes rolled as she stood up. "I'll use my excuse that applies for everything else. I'm a teenager. Deal with it. Anyway, I'm going to go get dressed. Get some sleep, Dad. You look exhausted, and I know that you didn't get much sleep yesterday. I'll be fine by myself. Besides, it's daylight. And I have my best friend with me."  
  
"Your best friend?" he questioned.  
  
"The baseball bat, of course."  
  
**********  
  
  
Sorry, this one got away from me. It's actually part one of a two part chapter (I can be incredibly long winded sometimes), which is why the title of the chapter probably doesn't match with this part. I'll try to get the next one up as soon as possible. 


	6. Chapter Five- Followed (part two)

Title- Everything's Changed  
Author- pepsicolagurl  
Rating- R for language and violence  
  
Notes- Same disclaimer as before. Sorry about the delay on this one, but I'm still getting over the excitement of the men's gold medal hockey game.   
  
Chapter Five  
  
Catherine smiled as she watched the teenager pull on her shoes. "Thanks again, Stacey. I thought that I was going to have to take the night off for awhile there."  
  
Smiling, Anastasia stood up and brushed her hair over her shoulder. "Hey, all I had to do was sleep and make breakfast. Dad was right when he said that she was a little angel. I shouldn't even get paid for this, but if you insist..." She trailed off with a bright grin. "Like I said, if you ever need anyone at the last minute, just give me a call. I don't know how long I'm out here, but it would be no problem at all, looking after her again."  
  
"Stay. Stay for years. I would love to have a back-up baby-sitter like you." With a laugh, she watched as the teenager opened up the door. "Are you sure that you don't want a ride back to your place? I have to take Lindsay in a half hour, so it wouldn't be that far out of the way."  
  
"Thanks, but I'll walk. You don't live that far away, and it's daylight. Uh, you said that my dad was still at work?" Catherine nodded. "Good thing he gave me a key, then. Thanks again, Catherine, for over paying me. I really appreciate it," she added with a bright grin before calling out a goodbye to the woman's daughter and starting down the front stairs with a wave.   
  
She fumbled in her purse for her sunglasses, slipping them over her eyes as she walked briskly down the sidewalk, occasionally looking from side to side at all the different houses and properties. It looked to be a friendly neighborhood, and she liked it a lot better than the complex that her father was living at, but she knew that her chances of getting him to move anywhere else in the city were slim to none, no matter how much she would have loved to live in an actual house again.  
  
A bright flash caught her eye, and she winced when she looked towards the source, the early morning sun bouncing off of a moving car's windshield. Anastasia shook her head and sighed as she turned the corner, the sound of the engine still behind her. "Someone takes the speed limit too seriously," she muttered to herself, sticking her hands in the pockets of her jacket as she kicked a rock that was in front of her, watching as it bounced into the street.   
  
Almost immediately, the car drove beside it, continuing the same speed. A confused look went over her face as she looked towards it, trying to see the driver. Unfortunately, the sun was bouncing off of that window, as well, and she couldn't see a thing. She turned her head away and started to whistle an old John Michael Montgomery song under her breath before picking up the pace, walking a little faster. Just like she was afraid of, the driver sped up a little to remain at her side.   
  
"Okay, this is freaky," she said aloud, wondering what she should do. Half of her wanted to stop and walk over to the car, to ask the driver what the hell his or her problem was. But she had a tendency to do something without thinking it through and this was one of those times, she figured, as she walked just a little faster, not bothering to look over at the car. All she wanted was to make it look like she was in a hurry to get somewhere, which was true.  
  
"And I'm sold to the lady in the second row. She's an eight, she's a nine, she's a ten, I know. She's got ruby red lips, blonde hair, blue eyes, and I'm about to bid my heart goodbye." Her whistling turned into singing, still under her breath as she looked up at the street corner sign and turned again, making sure that she was going the right away. The soft whisper of the car's engine continued to follow her, and the teenager was starting to wish that she had taken Catherine's offer of a ride home. It would have saved her a lot of trouble, she thought as she suddenly turned her head and looked towards the car.   
  
It was still following her, staying at her side, as she suddenly stopped and tried to stare into the window again. She could feel her heart beat a little faster as she took off, running towards a house on the corner, her bag swinging behind her. The car started to move again, matching her frantic pace as she took a deep breath and tried to make her feet work faster. "Sir. Excuse me, sir," she called out to a man that was just walking out of his front door. She waved to get his attention before quickly turning up his driveway and running towards the stairs. The car stopped on the curb, the driver obviously waiting to see what she was going to do.   
  
Anastasia bent over, trying to catch her breath as the man in the suit watched her curiously. "I'm very sorry to bother you, but that car over there has been following me since I left the house I was baby-sitting at. I was wondering if I could use your phone to call for a taxi to come get me."  
  
"Sorry, kid. I'm almost late to work as it is."  
  
She almost broke into tears when she heard that. "Please, sir. I've got to get to my dad, and that car will follow me all the way there. It's just a quick phone call, please."  
  
The man looked between her and the car on the curb for a few moments before sighing and looking back at the girl. "Where do you live? If it's not out of the way, I'll take you there."  
  
Her eyes brightened as she shook her head. "I'd rather go to the police station, if it's not too far out for you. I don't want to lead this guy all the way to my house, because he'll probably follow your car, too. I'm really sorry to bother you, it's just that I don't want to walk all the way with the car at my side. It's just a little too scary."  
  
With a relenting nod, the man gestured to his car. "Come on, I'll take you," he said, pressing the button to unlock the car doors. Anastasia gratefully walked over to the passenger side and opened the door, sliding in as she looked back at the car on the curb with a smirk. "Who is that, a jealous ex-boyfriend or something?"  
  
"Or something," she said, trying to get her breath back as she pulled the seatbelt over her and clicked it in place. "I don't know if it's who I think it is or not, but either way, I don't want to be anywhere near him." She laughed lightly as he started the engine and started to pull out of his driveway. The other car still hadn't moved. "I almost started looking for those old red and white Block Parent signs. You know, when you were a kid and someone was trying to hurt you, you ran for whatever house had them, and they would call your parents for you?" When the man gave her a funny look, she laughed again. "I guess you don't. Do you know how long it'll take us to get to the police station?"  
  
He looked towards the digital clock beside the stereo and shrugged. "If traffic isn't bad, which it shouldn't be this early, we can be there in five minutes." He looked in his rearview mirror to see that the car was still behind them. "This guy obviously doesn't like you."  
  
Her eyes rolled. "He doesn't really know me. He just doesn't like the fact that I'm alive," she muttered, looking back as well. "Damn, I can't even read the license plate. I don't suppose you know what kind of car that is, do you?" she asked when she saw that the license plate had been splattered with mud to cover the numbers and letters. Whoever this guy was, and she had a pretty good idea, he was smart. It was an old trick, but it worked.   
  
She dug into her purse as he started to talk, and she pulled out a pen, taking the cap off with her teeth as she started to scribble on her hand. "Ford Taurus, probably a 2000 or 2001. It looks like a rental, too."  
  
"How do you know that?" she asked around the cap as she continued to write down what color it was.  
  
He nodded towards his mirror. "The license plate holder. It's got a dealership's name on it, but I can't read it. Either a rental or just bought."  
  
Turning around in her seat, her eyes squinted behind her sunglasses as she tried to read the writing before writing more down on her hand. "Thank you, that'll be a big help. Or so my dad is going to think," she said, putting the cap back on the pen and dropping it in her purse, before leaning back with a deep breath. "I knew I should have stayed in Orlando."  
  
"You're on vacation?"  
  
"Sort of. I'm originally from California, but my dad moved out here a couple years back. I go to school in Florida. Kind of screwed up, I know." She smiled when he pulled into the visitor's parking lot at the police station. "Thank you, so much, sir. I'm so sorry to inconvenience you like that, but I really appreciate the fact that you drove me down here." Unsnapping her belt, she reached for the door handle. "Have a good day."  
  
The man grinned as she stepped out. Just before she closed the door, he spoke. "You, too, Anastasia, and say hi to Gil for me." The door slipped out of her hand and slammed shut as he pulled off, her mouth dropping open.   
  
"Oh, shit," she said to herself, before taking off across the parking lot and running along the sidewalk that led her to the side that her dad was on. Her chest heaved with her deep and frantic breaths as she let herself in, jogging over to the front desk. Luckily, it was the woman that had let her in the first time she was there, and she simply tossed her a visitor's badge and pushed the clipboard across to her. Anastasia's hands were shaking as she signed her name and jotted down the time before clipping on the piece of plastic, immediately turning on her heel to head towards her dad's office.  
  
She pushed the sunglasses up onto her head as walked up to the door, walking in before saying anything. Her mouth dropped open and she groaned when she saw that he wasn't in there. "Damn it, damn it, damn it," she moaned under her breath, resisting the urge to stomp her foot on the ground with frustration. "I don't need this today," she complained, pulling her foot back to kick at a chair near the wall.  
  
"Can I help you?" someone asked behind her, making her turn quickly and almost lose her balance with her foot in the air. Once she was stable again, the man gave her a funny look. "Are you looking for someone?" he continued, spotting the visitor's badge on the collar of her jacket.  
  
Nodding, she crossed her arms. "Yes, I am. Do you know if Gil Grissom is still here? I need to see him, right away." When she saw his look, she rolled her eyes again. "I'm his daughter, Anastasia, and this is basically an emergency. A big one."  
  
He nodded suddenly, looking her over. "So you're Anastasia. I'm-"  
  
"Nick Stokes, yes, I know. I actually do listen to my dad occasionally, despite what he may think. Look, I'm really sorry if I sound rude, but do you think you could go get my dad? I just...really need to tell him something. And could you please tell him that it has something to do with the reason that I'm out here, please? I'd love you forever if you would."  
  
**********  
  
She smiled sarcastically the moment that Grissom walked into his office, looking at her. "Morning, Dad. How has your day been?" Holding up a hand, the smirk remained on her face. "Wait, don't answer that. You should hear what my morning was like."  
  
He gave her an amused look. "Go ahead, I'm listening."  
  
"You won't think it's so funny once I'm finished talking. I'll just pick it up when I was leaving Catherine's. See, I decided not to get a ride home with her, because it was such a nice day and the weather is perfect for walking. Unfortunately, there was someone who didn't think the same way. I say this only because he was in a car when he was following me."  
  
"Following you?" he asked seriously as he watched his daughter swing from side to side in his desk chair.  
  
She nodded. "Oh, yeah. He chased me over to where some guy dressed in a suit was getting ready to go to work. He was too busy to let me use his phone to call a taxi, but he offered me a ride to the police station instead. He was really nice, you know. Helped me figure out what kind of car was following me, even what dealership it's from." She held up her hand, showing him the ink markings before passing a piece of paper over to him. "I took the time to write it down. But guess what, Dad? Turns out that this nice guy in the suit that was on his way to work wasn't so nice after all."  
  
He frowned, putting the paper down on the desk. "What happened? Are you okay?" he asked, coming around the desk to examine her and make sure that she wasn't bruised or bleeding.  
  
"I'm fine, which is surprising when you find out that the bastard that killed Mom was the one that drove me here, not the guy in the other car." Her annoyed look was immediately replaced with tears shining in her eyes as she brought a hand up to cover her mouth. "I was sitting right beside him, and talking to him. I told him where I went to school, and where I was from, and why I was here. He killed my mom and I didn't even know that it was him," she whispered, shaking her head before she bowed her head and started to cry. "I looked him in the eyes, and I didn't know who he was."  
  
Grissom crouched down beside her, as she reached out blindly and wrapped her arms around his neck, crying harder. He could remember the last time that he had held her when she was crying, the exact day. Only two days before Tara was killed, when she scraped her knee on the sidewalk outside their house. So many years, and it only reminded him of how many moments and events he had missed in her life. "Anastasia, maybe you're just-"  
  
"Jumping to conclusions?" she snapped, pulling back and wiping the tears away from her face. "He knew my name, Dad, and I never told him what it was. He told me to say hello to you. You still think I'm jumping to conclusions here? I know that it was him."  
  
He moved back, sliding open one of his desk drawers before pulling out a newspaper clipping, passing it to her. "Is that what he looked like?"  
  
She took it and looked carefully. "Older and with less hair, but that's him. God, that even looks like the same tie he was wearing." Throwing the paper onto his desk, she pulled her feet up on the chair and wrapped her arms around her legs. "I didn't even notice what car he was driving, or anything. I don't even remember the color of it. I was so concerned with the other car, and the fact that I couldn't see the license plate, that the car I was in could have been black, or for all I know, neon pink. I have that same article, and I didn't even recognize him. God, I'm such an idiot," she said, brushing her hair back from her wet face.  
  
"No, you're not, Anastasia. You didn't know what was going to happen." He stood up and winced when his back protested. "He did it all on purpose. He knew that you would be so concerned with the other car, because of me. I was the one that taught you to pay attention to details like that, and he knew that you wouldn't be concerned with who he was. He chased you to him for a reason."  
  
Her arms went back around her legs with a sigh. "What, he wants me to know that he's around or something? I don't get it. Why do I seem to be the main focus of his little obsession? I didn't do shit all to him."  
  
Grissom let the curse slide, knowing that she was upset. Instead, he looked down at the article that she had put back on the desk. "No, he wanted me to know that he knows who you are." Turning back to face her, a concerned and protective look went over his face. "He didn't touch you, did he?"  
  
Her head shook. "Not at all. He just sat beside me and drove. He barely looked at me, but he sure as hell didn't touch me. I just...I want it all to end."  
  
"So do I," he said softly.  
  
**********  
  
  
The song that Anastasia was singing in the beginning of the chapter was "Sold (The Grundy County Auction)" by John Michael Montgomery. 


	7. Chapter Six- Broken

Title- Everything's Changed  
Author- pepsicolagurl  
Rating- R  
  
Notes- Same disclaimer as all the rest. And I apologize for how long this took, but I've been playing around with my website for a little while now, and I still haven't finished. It's not fun being an html challenged person.  
  
Chapter Six  
  
"Hello, you must be Anastasia," the woman said, gesturing to the small sitting area in the corner. "Have a seat."  
  
"Actually, it's AHNastasia," she corrected, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. It didn't really matter, she would come here again, and she would still get her name wrong. "But you were the closer than the last one. Guess there's still some hope. A light at the end of the tunnel, if you will," she added sarcastically as she sat down on a comfortable arm chair and pushed off her shoes, immediately curling up in it. She knew what was happening, it was the same thing we went through every week since she was a kid.   
  
The woman smiled and sat down across from her, a pad of paper resting on her knee, a black pen held loosely in one hand. "I'm Dr. Murphey, but you can call me Karen." She waited for a response, but all she got was a nod from the teenager. "You seem very comfortable."  
  
Giving her a one shouldered shrug, she smiled. "I've done this way too many times, with way too many people. I think you're my tenth psychiatrist. Or therapist. I can never keep it straight."  
  
"Why have you been to so many different people?" Karen asked, poised to take notes. That was the only part that Anastasia hated. How they would write and analyze everything that she said, and she would never know what it said.   
  
"Because my dad moved me around a lot when I was a kid. And when I was a teenager. It just recently stopped, but you never know when it's going to start up again."  
  
She nodded, made a note, and that little noise that let her know that she was listening. The same thing that everyone else gave her once she got into their office. It was all the same. "And what does your mom think about that?"  
  
Sighing, she leaned back and tapped her feet on the cushion. "Well, I'd say that you have to ask her yourself, but that would include a Ouija board, a few incantations, and let's toss in an out of body experience for the hell of it." Karen stared at her, waiting for the answer. "She's dead, and has been since I was five or so. In fact, that's the reason that I had to bring my ass down here. Are you recording any of this? My last therapist recorded everything." Karen shook her head. "Great, can I smoke?"  
  
A crystal ashtray was pushed across the table to her. Anastasia grinned and dug into her purse, bringing out a pack of cigarettes and her lighter. "Does your father know that you smoke?"  
  
"Nope, but I'm going to tell him eventually. A friend already told me that I should. I figure that the day that he sees me smoking will be the day that I tell him." Nodding with her assessment, she took a puff and knocked off the ash into the bottom of the crystal.  
  
"Why don't you tell me why you're here?"  
  
"I already did but if you want to go a little further, what the hell. My mom took me shopping with her instead of calling my baby-sitter, we were in the mall, she was shot by some freaked out guy that was pissed at my dad, she died, I lived. The end."  
  
Karen smiled patiently after making her notes. "There's more to it than that, and you know...can I call you Stacey?"  
  
She nodded. "You can, but I prefer Ana. There's only a few people that call me Stacey now, and they're still learning." Taking a deep breath, she looked out the big window behind the therapist. "All right, you want more? My dad couldn't stand to look at me, because everyone told me that I was a complete double of my mother. He actually told me that a little while ago. So, he sent me off to private schools and boarding schools, under the pretense that he was just trying to further my education. Every little while, he'd pull me out of one, and put me into another. Hence, all the different therapists." She paused and cocked her head to the side. "I guess the education really did pay off."  
  
"And now? I know your father lives out here. What does he do?"  
  
"Ah, see, now that brings it all together. What did my last English teacher say...the common thread that makes the story complete? Anyway, my dad is a criminalist. You know, a crime scene investigator. Examines dead bodies and all that, but he's not a medical examiner, although I'm sure he knows that, too. Everyone confuses the two. He was a college professor for awhile, when I was a kid, but he used to help the police on different cases, too. That was out in California. He was working on a case, and the guy who was the suspect was the one that killed my mom. He was put in jail, but he got out, believe it or not. That would be the reason why he brought me to Las Vegas."  
  
There was a long pause where all Anastasia could hear was a clock in the corner. Just as it was starting to annoy her, Karen spoke up again. "You had your name changed. Your father did that when he sent you away?"  
  
The cigarette was crushed down in the ash tray, and she pushed it away. "Yup. Surprisingly, he changed it to my mom's name. Well, my middle name was her first name. Tara, and my last name was her maiden name. He thought that I would be safe then. Sort of like the Witness Protection Program or something, which is why I don't understand why he brought me out here." Before Karen could say anything, she continued. "See, the guy that was in jail for my mom's murder, he's out here. Funny, huh? And he's been following me for some reason. I was sitting in his car and I didn't even know it. I was talking to him, and I didn't even know it. Needless to say, Dad's furious. He actually wanted me to spend the night at his office, so that he knew I would be safe. Whatever."  
  
"This man is...following you?"  
  
"My dad doesn't know that I know, but he threatened me when I was a kid. There were no reporters or anything around, because it took place outside the courtroom when he was being charged with the murder. And he told my dad something to the effect of 'an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth'. Is that Shakespeare? Anyway, someone accidentally slipped a bit of information to me, and I basically put it together. I don't think she even realizes it. So, I know all of it, but no one knows that I do...besides thirty different therapists. Happy?"  
  
A faint smile appeared on Karen's face. "How do you feel about that?"  
  
This time, she did roll her eyes as she threw her legs over the arm of the chair, getting more comfortable. "How do you think? I'm scared, I admit it. Especially after I found out that I was talking to the bastard, but my dad doesn't really notice, I don't think. And he doesn't really admit that he's scared. He's just trying to look out for me, which is the reason behind everything. He's not really...a person that shares, you know? He used to be, but not now."  
  
"What else do you know that your dad doesn't?"  
  
She smiled and looked up as she answered. "I go and visit Mom, once a year. At least, I try. I don't really remember her, just little things. Dad usually sends money for me to go on vacations with friends for spring and summer break, sometimes even winter break. I'm usually with him for Christmas, but we have missed a few. I don't think we really cared if we were together, since we never saw each other. But I would book a different flight than everyone else, but my dad didn't know. Or one of the parents would book a different flight for me when I asked. It would be a few hours for a layover, and I'd go see Mom and just talk to her, you know? He doesn't know that, and he would never come with me. He's just started to talk about her, and it's been so long. I give him another few years."  
  
"Are you and your father close?"  
  
"Obviously not," she said lowly. "My dad...he's not normal. I don't mean normal, because no one's normal, but...he's different. Sometimes, you wonder if he even has a heart. His life is science, and that's it. I'm his daughter, but I'm more like a stranger. I've even considered having a DNA test before, but it would probably break his non-existent heart. You know, just a few days ago, it was the first time that my dad had actually touched me since I was five. Really. That was like the second coming of Pearl Harbor. It just doesn't happen. He doesn't know me, I don't know him, and we leave it at that." Grinning, she looked at the older woman. "Let me guess, at the end of this session, you're going to tell me that I need to share more with him, but not to tell him what happened here, right? Damn, I'm good," she said with a chuckle.  
  
Karen waited for her to calm down a little. "Do you blame your father for what happened to your mother?"  
  
The smile dropped form her face and she shrugged again. "I used to. I would go to sleep thinking, 'he killed my mother, that bastard', but he didn't. He didn't know what was going to happen. It's like the Chaos Theory, you know? Some kid's kite in Japan got tangled in a tree, so my mom was killed. I actually listen to him once in awhile when he goes off on his science talks, but really, I don't blame him anymore. He blames himself, though, and he thinks that I blame him, no matter what I could tell him. He's just that way. You know, my dad should really be the one seeing a therapist, not me, but he wouldn't say a word, anyway. He's not too big on this stuff, but he sends me to them anyway. I don't get it."  
  
"So you don't blame him?"  
  
"He didn't pull the trigger. Oh, a few years ago, he might as well have. I was that mad, but now? I just feel sorry that he thinks he killed her. He made a rookie mistake, really, by telling the guy that he was a suspect, but how did he know what would happen? He's said it before, and they didn't go off on a killing spree. They usually bitch and complain, or cry. Why blame him? Been there, done that. No fun."  
  
"And what do you say when he blames himself?"  
  
Groaning, her head fell back on the chair. "He doesn't say anything, but you can see it. Believe me, he wouldn't utter a word about it. Not even to Sara. She's my old baby-sitter, but they work together now. He used to tell her everything. It was almost like she was an older sister than anything, but he doesn't tell her anything now." She sat up and swung her feet to the ground. "That's the funny thing. They used to be really close, too. But now, it's like they know each other through work and that's it. She's in the same boat as I am, but there's nothing that either of us can do about it."  
  
Karen nodded and scribbled something down. "So, what doesn't your father know about you?"  
  
"Got a few years?" she asked sarcastically before taking a deep breath and beginning.  
  
**********  
  
Grissom frowned into his mug of coffee. "Sara, what were you like when you were a teenager?" he asked.  
  
She looked away for a moment, a smile on her face. "You don't want to know the answer to that question. Why, is Ana acting up again? You have to get used to having a teenager around. They're not the easiest people to deal with, you know."  
  
"How would you know?" he asked, finally looking up at her.  
  
Her shoulders moved in a shrug. "It's common knowledge...and I remember the hell that I put my parents through. It's the worst time in most people's lives. You're right between being a child and an adult. And sixteen is the worst time of the worst time," she added. "It wasn't THAT long ago that I was that age." Pausing, she took a sip of her coffee and grinned. "Why, what did she do this time?"  
  
"She's mad that I won't let her get another piercing. I think six holes in her ears are more than enough, but she wants more." He made a face. "It's not long before she can get it done without my signature, and she keeps mentioning a tongue piercing. I don't know why she would want to go through that much pain."  
  
Shaking her head, the brunette laughed. "Grissom, she's a teenager. If everyone else has a tongue piercing, she needs one. It's all about being cool, no matter how much pain you put yourself through. I don't see anything wrong with another ear piercing, though. I bet if you let her get that done, she'll stop talking about the tongue one."  
  
"Really?" he asked, tapping a finger on the top of the table. "I can't see her giving up that easily. She never has. I have no idea where she gets that stubbornness."  
  
Sara grinned again and got up, walking over to the coffee maker. "Probably from me. She was around me enough when she was younger to pick up a few traits, but it's not a bad thing." Pouring herself another cup, she looked around. "Where is she, anyway? I thought that on your day off, you guys would spend it together."  
  
He looked around as well, before shaking his head. "She had her first appointment with her new therapist. And I gave her some money to keep her out of the house a little longer." Grissom sighed, leaning back in his chair. "I'm too old to do this."  
  
"Do...what? Have coffee with me, or look after a teenager?" she questioned, before raising a hand to stop him. "You're not too old to do this, you're just too..." She trailed off, trying to find the right way to finish that sentence.  
  
"Too what?" he asked, looking over at her.  
  
Her mouth opened a few times, but nothing came out. "Fine, you're too old," she said with a smile. "I'm just kidding. Look, every parent has trouble with teenagers. The fact that you're doing it alone doesn't help any, but the least you can do is try. It sounds like you're already giving up, and she hasn't even been here that long."  
  
His eyes closed as his head tipped back to face the ceiling. "I know nothing about her, Sara. She just doesn't let me know anything, and every time I do try to figure her out, she ends up screaming, and I end up mad. It's not easy."  
  
Her eyes rolled quickly. "It's not supposed to be. Teenagers are very argumentative by nature. You're never going to find one that's completely sweet and innocent. Maybe you should consider the fact that she's just trying to piss you off. I don't mean, intentionally trying to piss you off, but it's sort of an automatic thing to do."  
  
"Trying to...it was so much easier when she was younger. She was an angel then. Never even thought of talking back. Now, it's all she does. I can't control her. I don't think anyone can."  
  
Sara frowned, her mind racing with all the possible meanings those words could have. "You're not going to...send her back to another school, are you?" She didn't wait for him to answer. "Damn it, can't you just keep her around and TRY for once? That poor kid has bounced from school to school for so many years. She acts like it doesn't bother her when she talks to you, but what she tells me is a completely different story. Don't you see what she tries to do?"  
  
He looked away, towards the sliding glass door that led to the small backyard. "Obviously not."  
  
"She's just trying to make you happy. She thinks that you'll be happy if she goes along with all the changes, and all the moves. That's all. She's willing to sacrifice her friends, and her own happiness so that you don't feel bad about making her leave her old school. You don't know the whole story, and you won't keep her around long enough to learn the damned story."  
  
"I can see that she's picked up your habit of cursing, too." Shaking his head, he looked over at her. "It's not as easy as it sounds, and I don't understand why this is bothering you so much."  
  
In her frustration, her hand slammed down on the table, making both of the coffee cups rattle. "I know her, Grissom, that's why it's bothering me. I know what she's like. When something is wrong with her at her school, or she needs advice, who the hell do you thinks she calls? She sure as hell doesn't pick up the phone and dial your number, because you wouldn't have the slightest idea of how to help her, or what advice to give her. You don't have the slightest clue, because you don't try, and that's exactly what you should be doing while she's out here." Her head shook slowly as she continued to stare at him. "You know, sometimes, I really don't get you."  
  
"Sara, don't be so ridiculous."  
  
Her head shook again as she stood up and took her jacket off of the back of another chair, folding it over her arm. "Ridiculous. If anyone is being ridiculous, it's you," she said, narrowing her eyes. "Just think about what you're doing to Ana, would you? Ask her if she wants to stay here with you, or go to another school, and go by that. She's old enough and smart enough to make those decisions," she added, before turning on her heel and stalked towards the door.  
  
It opened just as she was putting her shoes back on, and Anastasia walked in, a smile on her face. "Hey, Sara. Are you leaving?"  
  
"Yes, I am, and do me a favor. Tell your dad that he's acting like a...a...moron," she spat out, before walking past her and out the door.  
  
The teenager shook her head and watched her walk away before closing the door and walking towards her father. "She really needs to work on her insults. That's pretty weak. But I'll say it anyway. Dad, you're a moron," she told him with a bright smile, before dropping her bag on the couch. "What has her so fired up, anyway?"  
  
He shook his head, an amused smile on his face. "Don't worry about it, Anastasia. She's mad at me, and I think she has a good reason this time. How did your appointment go?"  
  
Making a face, she opened her eyes and looked over at him. "I really don't get her, Dad. She told me that she doesn't want to discuss what happens at the appointments with you, and yet she tells me that you and I should 'share' more. Talk about screwed up. Anyway, despite the fact that I think she's not the best, the appointment went fine." Pausing, she looked up at the ceiling before closing her eyes. "Then again, all the therapists have told me that. Is there any coffee left?"  
  
"Sara may have left a cup or two, I'm not sure." She nodded at his words, and stood up, walking into the kitchen. As she was pouring herself the last cup, he watched her carefully. "Have you calmed down enough for me to talk to you about that tongue piercing?"  
  
Making a face, she walked back into the living room and dropped herself on the couch, sipping her coffee. "I didn't want it to begin with. I was just testing you," she said, before leaning forward to put the mug on the table. "I'm actually going for a belly button piercing. I think it looks so much cooler, but a tongue piercing? No, thanks."  
  
He stared at her for a moment before shaking his head. "Anastasia, don't do that."  
  
"What? I just wanted to see what I could do. Some parents are all about artistic freedom with their kids. Not you, though. Of course not." Shaking her head, she rolled her eyes. "Give it up, Dad, I'm not putting a hole through my tongue, but maybe a nipple piercing..."  
  
"Stop right there," he said, raising a hand. "One more word about putting holes in your body, and I'll..." He trailed off, unsure of how to continue.  
  
She smiled and leaned back on the couch. "All the magazines say that grounding your child is wrong, you know. Ultimatums are all right, but not grounding them. It doesn't teach you anything. Besides, it's not like I really go anywhere. I don't know anyone out here, and you don't really let me, because you're scared that they could have some tie to whoever that guy is that's following me. Ooh, two points for me."  
  
Sighing, he looked over at her. "Anastasia," he warned, before changing his tone. "I realize that we're never going to come to an agreement on this, but do you think that you could at least try to stop from talking back?"  
  
Standing up, she picked up her coffee and looked at him. "You really need to work on your parenting skills. There's books for that, you know. I'm going to go finish that section in my science book. Don't be surprised if you hear me screaming in pain." She started to walk away, but looked over at him suddenly. "By the way, about the talking back thing? No."  
  
A smile landed on her face as she started up the stairs, before she slowed down, and then came to a complete stop. Listening closely for a moment, she looked down the stairs to see Grissom flipping through the newspaper. "Dad? Do you hear something?"  
  
He looked up at her and shook his head. "No, why?"  
  
"Because there's-" Her words were broken off by a loud crash coming from the second floor, making her stumble a little and her heels slid down the stairs to the step behind her. "Damn, there's...that." Her words were followed by a second crash, before they both heard an engine growl loudly from the street as it drove off. "You're kidding me," she said, before starting back up the stairs.   
  
"Stay right there, Anastasia," he told her, before standing up and coming to the stairs, climbing them and passing her to the second floor. Sighing, she followed behind him, peering into each of the rooms to see where the noise had come from. The last door was the one that faced the street, and it also happened to be her bedroom.   
  
"No. No freaking way it was from my room," she said hotly, before pushing past her father and turning the doorknob, letting the door swing open. "Damn it, BOTH of the windows?" she asked incredulously as she looked at the glass that littered the carpeted floor. "He broke BOTH of them? Why? What point is there in breaking my bedroom windows?"  
  
Grissom stopped her from going any further into the room and stepping on any of the broken glass by putting his hand on her shoulder. "We don't know it was him, Anastasia."  
  
Whirling around, her eyes flashed angrily at him. "Dad, open up your damned eyes, would you? Two windows are broken, we hear the car take off. The son of a bitch has been following me and trying to scare me. Yes, there were some kids that were playing baseball earlier, but they were in the BACK of us, and THAT sure as hell doesn't look like a baseball," she finished, pointing at the large sized rock on her bedroom floor. There was a second one in there, she knew, but she just couldn't see it. "Now, I'm not exactly the investigator here, but even I can see this for what it's worth." She turned away and put her coffee cup down on the bookcase closest to her, pushing it against the books so that it wouldn't follow off. "Damn it."  
  
"I realize that you're-"  
  
She looked at him with tears shining in her eyes. "No, you don't realize anything. Get the hell out of my way," she added before pushing past him and walking down to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.   
  
"You're right," he said to the empty room. "I don't realize anything, especially when it comes to you." 


	8. Chapter Seven- Abduction

Title- Everything's Changed  
Author- pepsicolagurl  
Rating- R  
  
Notes- Same disclaimer as before. By the way, this is when the strong language comes into play.  
  
Chapter Seven  
  
Grissom looked towards her, curled up on the couch with the blanket wrapped around her, eyes staring blankly at the television screen. "Anastasia?" he asked quietly. Her eyes didn't move from the movie that she was watching. "Anastasia?" he asked again.  
  
"What?"  
  
He opened his mouth to fire a sarcastic comment at his daughter before stopping himself. "I'm leaving. Keep the phone near you tonight, all right? I don't want to wake you up, but I am going to call later tonight, and I want you to answer it. Even if you complain about being woken up, answer the phone."  
  
She nodded, but didn't look at him. "Sure, whatever. Just make sure that you don't call every hour."  
  
"Of course," he said as he was pulling on his jacket. "Are you sure..."  
  
"I'll be fine, Dad. I just want to watch the end of the movie and then go to bed, all right? That's it. Nothing's going to happen." When he didn't say anything, she looked over at him, her eyes practically screaming her exhaustion. She was usually in bed by then, and most likely asleep. It wasn't like her to stay up that late. "I'll be fine."  
  
He nodded as she looked back at the television. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to do. He knew what he used to do when he had to go to work, but she wasn't the little girl that used to run up to him in her little pink sneakers with a mile-wide smile on her face, her arms out for the hug and kiss that she knew she was going to get. Now she was a rebellious teenager with a crocheted blankets wrapped around her like a cocoon, watching the end of Interview With The Vampire, because she had a crush on Tom Cruise. He was just beginning to learn that not everything stayed the same, and he was just starting to learn how much it hurt to watch her grow up. Especially since he had missed most of it.   
  
Instead of doing what he used to, all those years ago, he crouched down beside the couch and reached out a hand to run it down her hair with a faint smile. "Call me if you hear or see anything, all right? I left my cell phone number on the table by the door, and a few others, in case you can't get ahold of me, all right?"  
  
She nodded as the movie changed to a commercial before turning her head towards him. "I'll be fine, Dad. Really, I will. I've got my baseball bat, and they taught us self-defense in gym class. I can kill a man with one move. Are you scared?"  
  
"Frightened," he said dryly. "Are you sure that-"  
  
"I'll be fine. Don't worry about me. I'll have my Tom Cruise moment and then get some sleep...with the phone right beside me."  
  
Nodding, he stood up. "All right. Go on up to my room if you're going to sleep, rather than stay on the couch. There's a television up there, if you want to finish your movie in bed. I'll call you in a little while." She lifted a hand and waved him away as the commercial break ended and the movie started again. He nodded regrettably and walked out the door, never even anticipating what was going to happen next.  
  
**********  
  
Anastasia mumbled as she reached for the phone blindly, sitting up on the couch. What had been the rolling credits of the movie had turned into an infomercial for a rotisserie oven. Pressing the talk button, she ran a hand through her hair and turned down the volume on the television. "Yeah?"  
  
"It's just me. I'm sorry to wake you. Are you all right?"   
  
She smiled when she heard her father's voice, before sighing tiredly. "I'm fine, Dad. Nothing's happened and nothing will. And I wasn't asleep." Hearing a voice in the background, she chuckled in mid-yawn. "Say hi to Sara for me."  
  
"Go up to my room and get some sleep. I'll be home as soon as I can, all right?"  
  
"Yes, fine. Goodbye, Dad." She hung up and dropped the phone in her lap as she reached for the package of cigarettes on the table. Lighting one, she pulled one of the glass coasters closer to her to be used as an ash tray as she watched the television screen idly. She flipped through the channels and only found a mildly interesting episode of Designing Women to watch as she finished her cigarette, leaning forward to butt it out.  
  
The phone rang, and she froze for a moment, that feeling of being caught doing something wrong immediately overtaking her before she leaned forward the rest of the way, pushing down the filter on the coaster. Her other hand reached for the phone and pressed the button blindly before holding it up to her ear. "Dad, I told you, I'm just fine, all right? Now let me go get some sleep, like you told me to."  
  
A pause followed her words. "You're such a bad daughter, Anastasia. Does Gil know that you smoke?" Her eyes widened as she hit the button again and dropped the phone, looking around the living room to all the windows. He knew what she was doing, knew that she had been smoking. Obviously, he was watching her, but there were too many damned windows for her to look at. The sliding glass door that led to the back, the windows by the door, in the kitchen, by the dining room. She wanted to shoot whoever had built the complex.   
  
A rustling noise at the front door caught her attention, and she hurriedly threw off the blanket that was around her, almost falling to the ground in her haste. Scrambling back up, she ran for the door and slammed into it painfully, turning the dead bolt above the regular lock, something that Grissom had forgot to do when he left. "Let me in, Anastasia," a voice called from outside.   
  
"Go away," she whispered hoarsely, as she looked around desperately. But she couldn't get up the nerve to look out the windows that were beside the door, to see what he looked like. "Go away," she repeated, this time louder.   
  
"Let me in, you little bitch. You're only making it harder for yourself."  
  
Shaking her head, her hair flew in front of her eyes and blinded her for a moment, making her heart race. Her hands came away from pressing on the door, and brushed the hair out of her face as she backed up. "I'm calling the police, and then I'm calling my father, you bastard. Don't be surprised if he beats you into a bloody pulp." Well, it seemed like a good bluff, she figured as she backed into the living room.   
  
Not looking where she was going, she tripped over the blanket that she had left on the ground, striking her elbow against the coffee table. She winced and reached for the phone, just as it rang in her hand. Screaming, she dropped it before scooping it back up and pressed the talk button again. "What? What the hell do you want?"  
  
"I'm tying up the phone line, Anastasia. Even if you hang up, I'll still be there." She rolled her eyes and reached beside the couch, picking up the aforementioned baseball bat, and holding it loosely in one hand. "Don't even try it. I bet you don't even know how to swing a baseball bat."  
  
"Try me, asshole," she hissed into the phone. "I dare you. Just try and get near me."  
  
"Oh, that's right. You used to play softball, didn't you? At your school in Connecticut. You hit for the cycle one game, and you really knocked a few out of the park. Don't think that I don't know that. I've been watching you, Anastasia." He paused, as she tried to keep her breathing normal. It was starting to get out of control with her fright. "You grew up into a very beautiful young lady. Gil must be very proud of you. Probably has to chase boys away from you all the time. No, wait," he continued, without a break. "You don't date very much. Not since Bobby broke your heart."  
  
Glaring at the door, her eyes narrowed as she tightened her grip on the bat. "That was cheap. I thought psycho assholes like you could do better than that."  
  
"Don't fuck around with me, Anastasia. And while we're on the subject of fucking around with me, I want you to open up the door. Let me in, sweetheart. I'm not going to hurt you."  
  
Smirking, she started away from the living room, the phone still in her hand as she started up the stairs, watching the front door carefully. "Nice try, but you've seen Scream one too many times. Going to ask what my favorite scary movie is? I'll save you the trouble and tell you that it's Hallowe'en, the original." Her mind was screaming at her to just drop the phone and stop talking to him, but for some reason, she couldn't. Her blunt, sarcastic side just wouldn't shut up, and she knew that if she was talking to him while he was outside, he wasn't inside, with her. It was really a lose-lose situation for her.  
  
"Where do you think you're going?" he asked her.  
  
"I could ask the same damned question, considering that I hear you...moving," she said softly, before looking towards the sliding glass door. She had been out there in the afternoon, but she couldn't remember locking the door after she came in. Her eyes got even wider as she turned around on one of the stairs and started racing up them towards her father's room, just as she heard it slide open.   
  
The phone slid down from her hands as she opened the door and slammed it behind her, leaning against it with a ragged sob. She could hear him calling out her name as she turned the lock on the knob and ran over to the bed, sitting down and reaching for the phone. He may have been tying up the main line, but her father had a private line in his room, a private number that only a few people knew, including herself.   
  
Picking up the handset, she started to dial before breaking off, not sure what the rest of his cell phone number was. It was on the slip of paper that he had left downstairs, and that she hadn't been smart enough to remember. Her head turned and a scream stuck in her throat when a loud bang sounded against the door. She froze, unsure of what to do, before standing up and stalking over there, putting her other hand on the bat and bending her knees slightly, getting ready to hit the biggest home run of her life.   
  
The second kick opened the door, and she immediately started to swing before a hand clamped down on the bat and stopped its movement. She looked at the man in terror before trying to fight the baseball bat away from him, pushing it down. He grinned, like she was doing something foolish, before she matched the smile and shoved the bat forward, so that it rammed into his stomach. He slid down to her knees and she hurriedly jumped over him, starting back down the hallway.   
  
"That's it, you little bitch. Make a mess for your dad to see," he shouted as he got back up and went after her as she ran down the stairs. The frightened teenager was no match for his speed as he grabbed her by the hair and yanked her backwards, making her fall onto one of the steps awkwardly. She cried out in pain, her hand reaching up to fight his away.   
  
He pulled harder, trying to get her to stop and ripping several strands of hair from her head at the same time. With another scared scream, she reached up to his hand and dug her fingernails into his skin, making him release the hold he had on her hair. Unfortunately, both of their movements sent her tumbling down the remaining stairs, and she landed on the carpet with a grunt before getting back up and limping away as fast as she could towards the living room.  
  
She could hear him following behind her, not running, but matching her slow pace, as if he were playing with her. Anastasia did the only thing that she could think of doing, knocking down anything that could get in his way, even giving the end table a good enough shove to push it behind her as she tried to get away.   
  
Her head turned from side to side as she was backed into a corner, with him standing only a few feet away. Her eyes narrowed as she reached out blindly to the shelves beside her, picking up a heavy picture frame and throwing it towards him, the only thing that she could think of doing. He ducked it, and it went over his head to land on the coffee table's glass top with enough force that it shattered. She reached out again as he started closer to her. "It doesn't have to be this way, Anastasia."  
  
Pulling back her arm, she kept a firm grip on whatever it was that she was holding, narrowing her eyes at him. Her chest heaved with her frantic breathing as she watched him carefully. "Oh, yes, it does have to be this way, because there is no way in hell that I'm going to let you touch me again."  
  
His head shook as she brought her arm forward to throw the object, cracking the sliding glass door at the same time that he dove at her, taking her down around her knees. She cried out and tried to crawl away as he grabbed ahold of her, making her kick backwards uselessly, trying to get away. "I told you, sweetie. You could have come along with me, easily and nicely, but you had to try and defend yourself."  
  
"What did you think I was going to do, you fucker?" she grunted, kicking one more time at his knee, hitting it hard enough that his hands loosened. She started to crawl away, afraid to take the time to stand up and run on her twisted ankle, before his hand wrapped around it, making her scream louder than she ever had before. It was her last hope, to try and get one of the neighbors to wake up and hear or even see what was happening. She did learn a few things, being a criminalist's daughter, but most of it was just common...or frightened...sense.   
  
She flipped her body over, despite the tight hold on her ankle, and tried to swing at him, just to stun him long enough to get away. Instead, he let go of her ankle and moved up her body so quickly she couldn't even believe it, as a hand wrapped around her throat, pressing just hard enough to cut off her screams. She drew in a large breath before spitting at him. "Not very ladylike," he admonished her, as he tightened his grip on her throat. "What do you say now, Anastasia?"  
  
"Go to hell, you fucking bastard," she got out before a hand connected with the side of her face hard enough to knock her unconscious.  
  
**********  
  
Frowning, Grissom reached underneath his glasses and rubbed his eyes as he looked over another piece of paper, sitting at his desk. Without even thinking about it, he reached for his cell phone, and flipped it open blindly, dialing his home number. A figure stepped in his doorway, and he waved the person in. "Just give me a moment."  
  
Sara nodded and took the seat in front of his desk, watching as he finished dialing the number and held the phone up to his ear, immediately frowning. "What's wrong?"  
  
He shut off the phone and put it back down, looking at it. "I got a busy signal. I just called Anastasia, an hour ago, and she answered. She said that she was going to get some sleep."  
  
Shrugging, she leaned back in her chair. "She has a lot of friends. Maybe she decided to take advantage on a time difference and call one of them."  
  
"All of her friends are in this country. And she calls them during the day." Shaking his head, he sighed. "That's the second time that I've gotten that. On both lines. She might have taken one line off the hook, but both? She knew that I was going to be calling."  
  
Sara smiled at the worried look on his face, but didn't say anything. It was the first time in a long time that she had actually seen that look. "You said that you were calling once, right? She isn't expecting you to call twice, so she probably took the phone off so that she could get some sleep. Simple as that."  
  
He considered her words for a moment, and then shook his head. "I'm probably worrying over nothing." Pausing, he looked at her. "Are you still mad at me?"  
  
"No, but I still think that you're an ass, and you really need to...I'll just stop there. Actually, I came by to ask if you...Grissom? Are you all right?"  
  
Nodding, he stood up and reached for his jacket. "Fine, but I'm going to take a quick trip down to my place, see if she's okay. Something's wrong. I need to at least make sure that she's all right."  
  
Letting out a deep sigh, she stood up as well and tossed the file that she had been holding ontop of his desk. "I'm coming, then. Someone's going to have to calm her down after she explodes on you for treating her like a child, and I'm the best for the job. Let's go."  
  
**********  
  
"Look at that," she said, standing on the steps. "There's absolutely nothing wrong. She just fell asleep on the couch. She probably turned the phone on by accident, and doesn't know it," Sara said, gesturing to the flickering light she could see through a small break in the curtains.   
  
The keys were dangling from his hand as he searched for the right one in the dim light, before his attention was pulled away to the place beside his, and a woman that was waving at him, wearing a bathrobe. He nudged Sara and gestured to the woman before they looked at each other and went back down the steps, towards the other yard.   
  
The woman smiled, wrapping the robe around her a little tighter. "I'm sorry to bother you, Mr. Grissom, but I was just wondering if your daughter was all right. We heard her screaming a little while ago." A blush creeped up on her cheeks. "I was about to call the police, but I thought that maybe she was watching a horror movie."  
  
Sara leaned towards him and lowered her voice. "Ana doesn't scream when she watches a horror movie, she hides her eyes and sleeps with the light on for the next few nights." She turned towards the woman with a smile. "Was it just one scream, or a few?"  
  
"Oh, it was a few. Every now and then, she'd scream bloody blue murder. Woke up half the complex, I think, but I think we're all thinking the same thing."  
  
"What about a spider?" Sara asked in a low voice again. "She hates them."  
  
"She doesn't scream, she cowers and throws a shoe. Something's wrong. Do you have your phone on you?" he asked her in the same tone before looking down to see if he had brought his. Both of them shook their heads. "I'm going to go check on her. Stay here, just in case we do have to call someone."  
  
Sara nodded and watched as he walked back over to his place, a little faster than normal, before unlocking the door and trying it. She saw his frown because it wouldn't open, before he unlocked the second lock ontop, and finally stepped in, looking around. He hadn't taken two steps in the house before he looked back out. "Sara, call," he said loudly to her.  
  
She forced a smile on her face and looked at the woman. "Can I use your phone for a moment?" she asked before stepping in to her house. The phone was right in tiny foyer, and she made the call as quickly as possible, giving all the details she could and explaining who she was, before hanging up and thanking the woman, all but running out of her house and jumping the low stone barrier between the places, and running up the stairs into the house. She almost ran into Grissom, who was still standing there, looking around. "Holy shit," she said lowly.   
  
The first thing that had caught her attention was the furniture that was moved around from where it was just the other day, when she had been in there. The cracked glass door and broken table was too obvious not too miss. "Nice redecorating job," she said before she could stop herself, her eyes widening. "Sorry. Is she in here?"  
  
"I don't know," he said, still looking around at the mess in the living room and something else that had caught his attention.   
  
Sara pushed past him and walked gingerly over to the stairs, looking up them. "Ana?" she called, before shaking her head. "Grissom, one of the doors is kicked in. It's broken off of one of the hinges."  
  
He went over and looked up as well. "That's my room, which would explain why that phone line was busy," he said, shaking his head. "She's not here."  
  
Wrapping her arms around herself, Sara fought off a chill and turned away, walking back to the front door. "She fought back pretty good, but...damn," she said to herself, her head bowing so that her hair would hide her face.   
  
She heard the curse of, "Son of a bitch," behind her and jumped before stepping out onto the porch. She couldn't stand to be in there another moment. 


	9. Chapter Eight- Reassurance

Title- Everything's Changed  
Author- pepsicolagurl  
Rating- R  
  
Notes- Same disclaimer as before. Just a quick warning, same language factor as before (I rated it R, just to be safe). Enjoy.  
  
Chapter Eight  
  
Nick looked back and whistled low, under his breath, before turning away. "Is Sara going to be all right?" he asked, shaking his head.   
  
With a shrug, Catherine looked up at him. "She's close to the kid, and I don't blame her. Haven't you met her? She's a sweetheart." Looking over her shoulder, she peered in the same direction. "Grissom's taking it pretty good, though. If it was Lindsay, I'd be kicking ass all over the place."  
  
"Apparently, Anastasia did the same thing. There's fingerprints all over the place, both hers and his. Hair on the steps, broken glass, blood...his or hers. This place is a total mess," he said quietly, as he picked up yet another piece of long hair. "Ripped it right out of her head."  
  
"Grabbed her by the hair, I bet," Warrick added as he walked over. "If her hair was that long, and she was running down the stairs, it would be the easiest thing to grab ahold of. But I've got two questions. There's a baseball bat upstairs, who used it?"  
  
They looked at each other and shrugged. "The door is broken down, but a baseball bat wouldn't have done that. Maybe he brought it with him," Nick suggested. "Either that, or Anastasia had it with her. A lot of people use a baseball bat for protection, she might have been doing the same."  
  
The other man nodded. "And the cigarette butt that was with all the broken glass in the living room? Is it his or hers? We don't know where she was. There's a blanket in the living room, but Grissom said that she had been watching a movie in there. The door to his room is busted in, and he said that he told her to sleep in there tonight."  
  
"The real question is, was he waiting downstairs for her, or was she hiding something?" Catherine mused, standing up. "The windows in her room were broken earlier in the day, so she wasn't going to spend the night in there. But where's the first place that you run when someone's in your house? Some place familiar and safe."  
  
Nick sighed and looked up the stairs. "That would be her room, but no one's looked in there, yet. You want me to check it out?" Catherine nodded, as he started up the stairs, walking carefully as he carried his small flashlight up into the dark hallway, turning to the one closed door on the second floor. He turned the knob and stepped in, panning his light around.  
  
Nothing seemed to be out of place. There was a cold cup of black coffee still sitting on the bookcase, but there was no glass on the ground from the window, and nothing knocked down. Stepping in a little further, he looked towards the neatly made bed, and the one pair of jeans that had been tossed across a chair. Pictures on the walls and on the furniture showed the teenager with a softball team, with friends, and in different states and countries. Tucked in the corner was a picture of her when she was a child.  
  
He walked closer to it and picked it up in his gloved hand, examining it curiously. A little blonde three year old with her parents, her smile was wide as could be. "Damn," he said softly, putting it back down before peering at the one beside it. The same teenager that he had met just a few days ago, in the picture only a year younger. A pair of skis were resting on her shoulder, as her and a friend posed in front of a snow covered hotel.   
  
His head shook as he walked back out and looked down the stairs. "No, she didn't go in there. Or, if she did, she didn't make a mess like down there. Nothing's out of place there." Catherine nodded, looking up at him. "What is it?" he asked.   
  
"She was just a kid. You know, Grissom and Sara can say whatever they want, but I talked to her. Why would anyone take a kid?" she asked, the occasional innocence that she still had showing.   
  
Warrick broke into their conversation yet again. "Why would anyone take anyone? Look, we've done everything that we can here. Picked up every piece of hair, every fibre...the only thing left is to take all this back to the lab. Besides, I'm kind of curious to see the result on the cigarette butt."  
  
Nick gave him a strange look. "Why don't you ask the two people that know her best?"  
  
He gestured out the door, a smirk playing on his face. "With their attitudes? I'd rather jump in a pit of snakes. We'll find out soon enough."  
  
**********  
  
Catherine peered in the doorway, a hesitant smile on her face before she stepped in. "Hey, guys. We got the results back on everything," she told them before stepping in further and sitting down in the chair beside Sara. She pushed a piece of paper across the table towards Grissom. "The hair and blood was Anastasia's, but there wasn't enough blood to account for anything serious. There was also a cigarette butt that we found in the living room, along with a crushed pack and a lighter."  
  
Sara raised her hand and cut her off. "It's Ana's, I already know. She's been smoking for a year now."  
  
"Why didn't you tell me about this?" Grissom asked her. "I didn't even guess."  
  
"Parents are the last to know," Catherine told him. "I wouldn't worry too much about it. Cut off her supply, and she'll quit. Uh...we also compared some fingerprints that we found on a baseball bat upstairs. Surprisingly, they were pretty good. Both Anastasia's and...uh..." She stopped and looked at the second piece of paper that she had in her hand.  
  
"Richard Blake," both of them supplied at the same time. "I'm sure that Sara's already told you the story, so there's no point in going over it again. He's been following Anastasia for awhile now, but we couldn't be certain."  
  
Rolling her eyes, Sara crossed her arms like a stubborn child and looked down at the table. "Oh, you were sure, you just didn't want to say it. You knew all along that it was that bastard, but you didn't want to believe it. She should have stayed in Florida, under Tara's name."  
  
"Sara-" he began, but as cut off quickly.  
  
Standing up, she pushed her chair back towards the table. "Yeah, I know. You were worried, so you brought her out here. Well, guess what? You bring her back, make her take her real name, and she gets taken by some asshole that's hell bent on revenge. Think about it for a second, Gil. I was all for you two to be together, but not if it was going to end like this. For once, you weren't so smart," she spat out before storming out of the room and down the hall.  
  
Catherine sat back, surprised at what name she had used to address him, before shaking her head. "You want me to go after her?" she asked after letting out the breath she was holding.   
  
He shook his head slightly. "Is there anything else?"   
  
"No," she said quietly. "That's all we have right now. A few people in the complex saw a car start up and leave from the guest parking lot, but it went out the main exit, and no one knows which way it went after that. I'm sorry."  
  
He stood up and looked down at her. "Find something else. That's not enough to go on. I need to know where she is," he said sharply, before rubbing his forehead with a sigh. "I'm sorry, but..."  
  
"I understand. It's your daughter, but you have to realize, as much as you don't want to, you're not running this one. I am, and all of us are doing everything that we can. We could always see if we could call on some people from day shift to help us, but that would be...sorry I even brought it up," she added when she saw his look. "Go after Sara, and let me do some more digging around. We're already checking every hotel in the city to see if he was staying at any, and we're trying to get ahold of credit card bills, cell phone bills...whatever we can get. It takes time."  
  
"I know," he said, with a shake of his head. "I know." With one last look at her, he turned on his heel and started out the door and down the hallway in the same direction that Sara had left. He knew her well enough to know that she had gone outside, for air or something else, he wasn't sure. But when he did find her out there, she had already pulled herself up on the top of her vehicle, a glowing cigarette in hand, although it didn't look like she was smoking much of it.   
  
She heard him approach, but didn't look towards him. "I told her to tell you, you know. Or to quit. She said that she would say something eventually."  
  
He nodded and leaned his back against the front of the vehicle, looking off into the distance. "I'm not too mad about it. I did the same when I was her age."  
  
"Yeah," she said quietly, before looking down at her own cigarette and tossing it to the ground, half burnt. "Look, I'm sorry about what I said in there. I don't even know what I'm thinking at this point."  
  
They were silent for a moment, listening to the passing traffic and voices coming from down the street. "You were right," he said. "I wasn't even thinking about what could happen when I told her to come out here. It never even crossed my mind. I was looking out for myself, not her."  
  
She sighed and leaned her elbows on her knees, cupping her face in her hands. "I'm too close to this, and I'm not even working it. I just...she's like a little sister to me. After all these years..."  
  
"Go home and get some sleep. There's nothing that you can do here."  
  
She shook her head. "No, I'm not leaving. Why don't you? There's nothing that you can do," she shot back, before closing her eyes. "I can't leave. I just...I can't."  
  
He leaned back further and crossed his arms, trying to fight off the chill of the night. "I know. I keep running his words through my head, what he said back in front of the courthouse. 'Take mine, I'll take yours. Be sure to keep an eye on your little girl, because one day, she won't be there for you to see.' I've heard those words every day, ever since he said them."  
  
"Don't say that," she said quietly. "She's not...he didn't...he wouldn't. He's trying to play around with you, that's all. That's all he's doing." The words were more to reassure her than him. "I'll kill the bastard if he does."  
  
"Get in line."  
  
**********  
  
With a groan, Anastasia moved her head from side to side, trying to make something in there snap for a little temporary relief. She had been slipping in and out of consciousness, and she was just beginning to learn that it was no fun to see little black spots every time she opened her eyes. "The moment they turn purple is the moment that I start worrying," she said to herself, sitting up.   
  
At least the guy had been nice enough to leave a bed in the room, she thought sarcastically as she looked around. As well as a desk, a chair, and an overhead light with a cheap shade. But she knew he wasn't stupid, and he had shown that by covering the only window in the room with wood that had been nailed to the wall. She wasn't even going to attempt to move it.  
  
But she figured that he might have left something in the room...anything...that could help her. Something to defend herself with would be best, she thought to herself as she fought her way off of the bed and tried to stand. Her ankle buckled under the weight she was putting on it, and she quickly put all the weight on her other leg, trying to stop herself from screaming in pain as she hobbled over to the desk and sat down, taking a deep breath.   
  
"Please, please," she whispered as she pulled open the first drawer. Unless she was planning on getting out of there by giving him paper cuts, the few sheets of lined paper weren't going to help her a lot. She was hoping for anything that had even a slightest point to it. Something dull hurt more than something sharp, she knew that.  
  
Something on the side of her face made her hand go up there and wipe away whatever was offending her. She was more than disappointed to see a bit of blood staining her fingers. When he had hit her the first time across the face, she had felt something cool against her skin, most likely a ring, she figured. And the ring had probably cut her. It wasn't very deep, no more than a scratch, but it must have been bleeding before, judging by the dried blood that surrounded it. She wished for a moment that she had a mirror to see what she looked like, see how bad the damage had been. Her nose or her jaw weren't broken, and the worst thing she had to deal with was her sprained ankle. At least, she hoped.   
  
Shaking her head, she moved onto the second drawer, only to find it empty, as was the third drawer. "Damn it, even a letter opener would have helped," she complained to the air, leaning against the back of the chair. It creaked threateningly, and she hurriedly leaned forward again. "Screw the paper cuts, I'll give him a splinter," she told herself sarcastically as her head fell forward, her hair hiding her face.   
  
"You son of a bitch. You fucking asshole," she yelled towards the door, hoping that he could hear her. No sound greeted her. Maybe she was screaming at no one, because there was no one in there. That thought, although it should have been comforting, scared her more than anything. One of her biggest fears was to be alone, and even if it meant that she had to spend time with a murderer, she would have been more than happy. At least then, she wouldn't be alone, and screaming herself hoarse when there was no one there to hear her.  
  
She couldn't help thinking that her father had been right when he said that she swore too much, but she was sure that he wouldn't mind in this situation. "God, I'm thinking about cursing when I should be worried if he's going to kill me or not," she said softly, getting off the chair and hobbling back to the bed. Her ankle was throbbing more than ever as she fell back across it and moved the pillow behind her so that it was doubled up under her head as she looked at the plain white ceiling.   
  
There was no doubt in her mind that this royally sucked. Sure, she had been scared after she found out that she had been in his car, but this...this was absolutely frightening. This was making her shake, and it wasn't cold in the room. In fact, the furnace clicked on and started to blow more warm air into the room as she heard scuffling outside her door.  
  
Her eyes widened as she sat up and watched it warily as it swung open. "I thought I heard you screaming," the man said, watching her carefully to make sure that she wasn't going to try and jump at him or anything.  
  
"Go ahead and tell me that old cliché about how there's no one to hear my scream. Really, I'd love to hear it," she snapped, her eyes staying on him as he came further into the room and closed the door behind him.   
  
With a shrug, he moved towards the desk chair that she had just been sitting in. "It's true. No one will hear you scream, because there's no one around here. I made sure of that. The only way anyone will hear you is on the telephone."  
  
"I'm sure you did make sure of all that," she replied, a smirk on her face. "And you sure as hell don't look like Ma Bell, so just cut the crap and tell me what the hell you want."  
  
He produced a thin cell phone from his pocket and threw it to her. She watched as it landed on the bed, only an inch from her leg. "Go ahead and call Gil. I'm sure that he'd like to hear your voice to make sure that you're all right. By now, he would have found out that you're missing, and if I'm right, all of those people that would have been working on the case are scurrying around like little mice, trying to find a lead."  
  
Anastasia opened her mouth to say something, but snapped it shut immediately. The words, however, wouldn't stay down, and they burst out before she could stop herself. "Yeah, asshole? Ever heard of *69? They'd find out that you have a cell phone, find out where you bought it, and all that good stuff. Hell, they can probably track a cell signal."  
  
A smile covered his face after she was finished talking. "You've got quite a mouth on you. If you're worried about the phone, don't be. It's yours."  
  
"I don't have a cell phone."  
  
"You do now, because it's under your name. I told the guy at the store that I was buying it for my daughter. No questions asked." He stood up and took a few steps towards her, watching how she flinched slightly before the fear evaporated from her face and was replaced with anger. "But let me assure you, Anastasia. If you call anyone but your father, it'll be the last call that you ever make."  
  
Looking down at the phone, she felt a lump raise in her throat, and she hurriedly swallowed it down. "I don't even know his cell phone number. I'm not sure..."  
  
"It's in the directory. The only number in there." He nodded towards the phone. "Now, make your call and make it quickly. We don't want your dad to worry too much about you."  
  
**********  
  
Grissom looked up before shifting the hand that was holding his cigarette. "I quit years ago, you know."  
  
"And it seems like only yesterday," Sara finished, looking down at her own. "I don't even remember where I got these, but regardless, I'm going to smoke them, and I'm probably going to get another few packs from the store." She saw the look he gave her, and she shook her head. "No, I didn't supply Ana. I told her that I wouldn't."  
  
"Thank you," he said quietly before dropping the glowing butt and crushing it under his shoe. "She's all right, Sara. He would have called me and gloated if she wasn't. I know what type of person he is, I've seen it before."  
  
She nodded with a small sniffle, keeping her eyes forward. "You know, for some reason, I keep thinking back to when she was four, and I was baby-sitting her at night. She had a nightmare, and she was so scared that she kicked at me a few times. She was always nasty when she got scared."  
  
His head turned towards her slowly, a confused look on his face. "Wait...what did you say?"  
  
"That when she's scared, she gets...oh, God. She's probably mouthing off to him right now." Despite the severity of the situation, she chuckled lightly. "Knowing her, she's using every curse known to ma and making up a few while she's at it. He probably never expected that. But it could get her into trouble," she said more seriously. "A lot of trouble."  
  
"I don't think so. Anastasia is probably-" He broke off when a ringing sounded from the pocket of his jacket. He took out his cell phone and looked at the Caller Identification box before frowning. "Yes?" he asked once he had turned it on.  
  
There was a long pause followed by a crackle before he heard a sigh. More specifically, his daughter's sigh. "Dad, it's me."  
  
Sara motioned to him, trying to find out who he was talking to. "Are you all right?"  
  
"I'm fine. Well, as fine as I can be, with this jackass breathing down my neck. Someone seriously needs a breath mint over here," she muttered. He could just imagine her shaking her head and moving away from him...if she could. "I sprained my ankle, but besides that, just a few cuts and bruises. Nothing that won't heal."  
  
He fought off the hands that were trying to pull his arm down, so that she could hear as well, and turned so that Sara couldn't try it again. "Do you know where you are?"  
  
"No," she said more quietly. He could hear that she was starting to cry. "I have no idea. I was in and out for awhile, and I have no fucking clue."  
  
"He's there with you, isn't he?"  
  
The phone clicked a few times, and the static intensified for a moment before another voice came on the line. "Actually, I am, Gil. Your daughter...she's quite the fighter. For a moment over at your place, I thought that she was going to get away from me. But I have her now and she's right. She's just fine for now."  
  
He shook his head when he noticed that Sara was about to say something, and gestured for her to be quiet. "She's not the person that you're after, Richard." Her eyes widened before she slipped off of the hood and started running for the entrance to the building, practically slipping in her haste.   
  
"Actually, she is. Don't you remember what I told you? I was never after you, it was always about Anastasia. Your pretty little girl. Have you even noticed how much she's grown up since then? And while we're on the subject, it wasn't all that smart to change her name. Especially changing her name to her mother's. Don't you think I would figure it out with time? I've been watching your daughter for a long time now. And I know that you haven't been. You're not exactly the model father, now are you?"  
  
He had to force himself not to do like Anastasia did, and start spouting off sarcastic comments that could only get her in more trouble than she was already in. "Don't you dare hurt her. If you even touch one hair on her head, I'll-"  
  
"You'll do nothing. You're not the one that can make demands here, because I don't have to listen to them. You, on the other hand, you have to listen to mine. If you want your daughter to live, since you've tried to protect her so much all these years...you'd damned well better listen to me."  
  
"What do you want?" he asked automatically. "What could I possibly have that you want?"  
  
The only response that he got was a chuckle before the line went dead. He listened to the silence for a moment before slamming the phone shut and taking off in the same direction that Sara had headed in, hoping that someone else might be able to find something useful in what he had heard. 


	10. Chapter Nine- Repetition

Title- Everything's Changed  
Author- pepsicolagurl  
Rating- R  
  
Notes- Same disclaimer as the rest. I'm trying to calm down on the swearing a little. Anyone who knows me knows that it can be difficult. Also, thanks to everyone for the kind reviews. I appreciate it.  
  
Chapter Nine  
  
"But she said that she was all right?"  
  
Nodding his head, Grissom reached into his pocket and fingered his cell phone, wondering if it was going to ring again anytime soon. "Yes, she said that she was all right. She thinks she sprained her ankle, but nothing serious. She also said something about cuts and bruises, so that could explain why her blood was in the living room."  
  
Warrick nodded as he unscrewed the cap on his bottle of water. "Yeah, most likely. We're working as quick as possible on everything that we have, but it's not a lot. We already know who it is, but we don't know anything about him, besides what's in his file, and it's not a lot to go on."  
  
"He kills for retribution, he kidnaps for retribution, and it doesn't bother him in the slightest. I've never heard someone so calm before, especially in that situation...and with my daughter, no less," he said dryly, noticing the look he got. "Anastasia isn't the easiest to deal with. And she has no problem talking back when she shouldn't, which she's been doing. I didn't even have the chance to tell her not to do that."  
  
"You said that it didn't seem to bother him," he began, before Catherine walked up to them, waving a piece of paper in the air. "You have something?"  
  
"A big something," she said with a smile before handing him the paper. "The receipt for a rental car. I matched up his signature to the one we have, and the picture. He had to have his driver's license photocopied to get the car. They were more than happy to hand over the information." Her eyes went towards Grissom. "There's already an APB out on the car, we're just waiting for a response now. As long as he didn't change the license plates, we're fine. But I'm not putting anything past this guy right now."  
  
He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. "I wouldn't, either, and I'm not. That's probably the same car that she was in before." When they both looked over at him, confused, he went on to explain. "When she was walking home for your place that morning, a car was following her and lead her right to a house that no one lives in, but that he came out of. The 'For Sale' sign was found in the backyard later that day. He drove her here, and then made some comment that made her realize who he was."  
  
Her eyes widened. "I didn't know. I offered her a ride home, but she told me that she wanted to walk. I probably should have fought her a little harder."  
  
"Should have...doesn't matter any more. What happened, happened, and you can't change it. It would have happened anyway, eventually. This guy is very...patient, to say the very least."  
  
Warrick nodded. "Patience can be a virtue, but it can also screw you over. Someone had to have seen him waiting around. Where does Anastasia go the most? You said that he said that he was following her around."  
  
Grissom sighed and tried to recall any place that his daughter had been to in the last little while. "A mall about ten minutes from the complex, a bookstore just down this road. Her therapist's office. She was just there the other day for an appointment." He saw, out of the corner of his eye, that Catherine had opened her mouth to say one of her usual blunt remarks, but decided against it, keeping silent. He waited for a moment to see if she really would say anything, but when she still wouldn't speak, he continued. "Which reminds me. I have to cancel a few of her appointments that she was supposed to have tomorrow. One with her school..."  
  
"What school does she go to?" Catherine asked suddenly.   
  
"The distance education school out here. Home schooling, for now. I was going to send her back to her school in Florida, but-"  
  
Again, he was cut off. "What do you mean, school in Florida?" Warrick added.  
  
"She went to a private school in Orlando. And one in New York and one in Connecticut. There was one in Hawaii, on Oahu, actually. I'm sorry. I never realized that there were that many."  
  
"None of those really matter. He didn't take her out of Las Vegas, at least not on a flight," the woman told them. "The police have sent his picture and name to all the bus stations, the airport...everywhere. He couldn't have gotten her on a flight or a bus, anyway. Someone would have noticed an unconscious, bleeding teenager. When we got to your place, the blood was still fresh. That's a bonus for us."  
  
Grissom shrugged. "But you're forgetting the easiest way out of here. By car. You said that he rented a car, how can you be sure that that they're still in Las Vegas? In the amount of time since she's been taken, if you have the time right, they would be only an hour away from California. How do you know-"  
  
"We'll find her," she said, moving her hair away from her face as she spoke. "If nothing else, we'll find her."  
  
He looked down the hallway, towards a crying woman that had obviously just been given some bad news. Would that be what he would hear in a little while, he wondered. "I have no doubt that you'll find her, Catherine, but I don't know if she'll be..." He stopped himself before he could finish the words, but that didn't finish the thought.  
  
And he really didn't want to dwell on something like that.  
  
**********  
  
Anastasia leaned forward and picked the unopened bottle of water from the ground, twisting the cap to break the seal. "Why did you do it?" she asked quietly.   
  
The man looked over at her, startled for a moment. "Why did I do what?"  
  
"Kidnap me, brainiac. Why did you kill my mother? I have nothing but questions, and no one has been able to hand me any answers. I want to know why you did what you did," she told him, her voice even and calm before she sipped the water. He didn't say anything. "Oh, come on. I know what's going to happen, and I know that you threatened my life already, in front of the courthouse that day. I wasn't supposed to know, but I do. So if you're going to do what I think you're going to, you might as well tell me why you killed my mother."  
  
He examined her closely. The light bruise on her face that would turn darker within a few hours. The cut that had finally dried. Her knotted and gnarled hair. And the extremely calm look in her eyes as she stared at him. She wasn't scared anymore, and that was one thing that was working against him. "Answer my question first. Why aren't you crying and begging to talk to Gil?"  
  
She shrugged and took a longer drink of the water. "What good would that do? I call him, and he worries more. I don't call him, and he worries more. It doesn't help me out, either way. And the reason that I'm not crying...well, you already know the answer to that question. I'm not scared of you. Disgusted by you, yes, but scared?" She shook her head. "I may be sixteen, but I'm not stupid. I know that you're just biding your time until you kill me and dump my body someplace familiar where my dad would be sure to see it. Then, you'll be happy. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if you turned yourself in. You'd have finished what you started."  
  
"You're scared, you have to be," he said confidently.  
  
Surprisingly, she started to laugh. "Well, if you don't know the difference between scared and disgusted, you seriously need a dictionary. Remind me to get you one for Christmas," she muttered with a roll of her eyes. "You'll never get me to admit to anything like that. Dad says that I'm as stubborn as they come, and I'm inclined to believe that."  
  
"You're inclined to believe that because he said that you were."  
  
She shook her head and turned the cap back on the bottle, putting it back on the ground. "No," she said, drawing out the word as long as she could. "I'm inclined to believe it, because it's true. Can we just stop with the mind games, please? I'd like to know whether you're going to tell me why you killed my mother or not."  
  
The man paused and watched as she stretched out on her side, wincing when she accidentally brushed her ankle with her foot. "Why are you so interested in finding out?"  
  
"I'd like to know why you decided to punish me for the rest of my life," she said in a bored tone. "I was quite happy with both my mom and dad around, but you killed her, and I was sent off to private school after private school. I believe that would make it...YOUR fault that I was moved around so much. So, enlighten me. Why make my life a living hell?"  
  
Considering her question, he tilted his head to the side. "Do you think Gil is worried about you?"  
  
At first, she was going to groan at the fact that he changed the subject. Instead, she smiled and looked down at her ragged nails, having broken some of them when she had used them to dig into his skin when they had been fighting on the stairs in her house. "Don't know what you got, until it's gone," she said saucily. "How the hell should I know? I'm not a mind reader."  
  
"And why aren't you scared to die?" he asked.  
  
Anastasia could do nothing but shrug, but she knew that it wasn't going to be enough for him. "I've come to accept it. I did the second that you walked through that door and told me to call my dad. I knew what was up then. I'm smarter than most people give me credit for. I knew that you were just playing with him, trying to make him obsess over what's going to happen before you decide to finish it. God, give me a little credit here, would you?"  
  
"You have an attitude problem."  
  
"So my therapist tells me."  
  
They stared at each other from across the room, before she had to break it, and look towards the floor. Maybe the calm, accepting thing wasn't working too well, she thought to herself with a frown. Maybe she really should be crying and screaming to be let out, to call her father...but then he would have an advantage over her. This wasn't exactly something that they taught her in school, and she wasn't sure what she was supposed to do. All she could do was what she would normally do, which was mouth off and be as sarcastic as possible.   
  
But inside, she was scared out of her mind.  
  
**********  
  
Nick shifted uncomfortably in his seat, looking out the windshield. "So, who tells him?" he asked quietly.  
  
"Who tells him what?" Catherine replied, distracted as she turned the corner towards the flashing police lights. "Nick, the least you can do is answer me when I ask you a question. Who tells him...whoever the 'him' is, what?"  
  
"Who tells him if this is Anastasia?" he finally asked, turning to look at her.   
  
She slowed the vehicle and let out the breath that she had been holding, making the hair around her face float up for a moment. "I wish you had never asked me that question, but we don't know if it's her or not. They just said that it was a female teenager, and she had been shot. There's nothing to say that it was Anastasia."  
  
"And there's nothing to say that it isn't her. If it is, Catherine, I really don't want to be the one that has to tell him. I mean, really. And if it is her, you don't know what he's going to do or how he's going to react."  
  
She turned the key and shut off the engine before unsnapping her seat belt and turning to him with a purely serious look in her eyes. "Look, we don't know whether it's her or not. Have a little faith, Nick. Be positive for once. We're going to go and see if it's her, and if it's not, we examine the scene and wait for the autopsy to be finished. If it is her, we examine the scene and wait for the autopsy to be finished." She had been calm a moment ago, but now her eyes flashed with barely restrained anger. "And I'd like to think that he would react like any other parent, all right? It's his daughter. They may not be close, but it's still his daughter."  
  
Looking down, he frowned and tugged on his baseball cap. "I'm sorry. It's just that...I'm considering all the possibilities, all right? Come on, we might as well head out there." They both opened their doors and jumped out with their gear, heading over to the police officer in charge, waiting for any information.  
  
What they heard wasn't very promising. A young girl had been shot, and the body dumped by the side of the road. That was all they knew, and it wasn't something that either of them wanted to hear. It could very easily be Anastasia, and at the same time, they were both hoping that it wasn't.   
  
Catherine was shaking her head as she walked over to the side of the road where the body was, almost afraid of what she was going to see. As a parent herself, she knew that hearing that something happened to your child could be the most frightening thing in the world, and she couldn't even begin to imagine what it was like to hear that your child had been killed.   
  
Her eyes slammed shut before she could look at the body, and she took a deep breath. "Catherine?" Nick called from behind.  
  
It took a great effort, but she finally opened her eyes and looked towards the girl that was laying in the ditch, before letting out the breath she had been holding. "It's not her," she called behind her, feeling the tension drain from her body. It definitely wasn't Anastasia. The girl that was laying there had black hair, and was a lot smaller than the teenager in question. "It's not her," she repeated to herself.  
  
"Catherine, Sara just called. They found the car. It's about ten miles away from her, empty and broken down. They're all heading down there now. She said something about Warrick having to go alone, and they're tagging along." He smiled sheepishly as he shut his cell phone and clipped it back on his belt. "They want us out there as soon as we finish out here."  
  
She nodded and looked down again. "Come on, then. The sooner we start, the sooner we're finished. And the sooner we get out to the car."  
  
**********  
  
"So...are you going to tell me or not?" Anastasia questioned a final time, shrugging. "It's not life or death for me to know, but if you're going to kill me, the least you could do is answer my questions."  
  
He shook his head, surprised by how she was acting. He had expecting nothing but screaming, crying, and whining. This wasn't any of those. And the questions just kept coming, and never ended. "Why do you need to know? She's dead, isn't she? She's been dead for years...or haven't you gotten over it yet?"  
  
She nodded and made a face. "Oh, I'm over it, don't worry. I barely remember her, so it's not like it's that big of a deal." Was there a neon sign on her forehead that kept blinking "liar", because that's exactly what she saw. Of course her mother's death bothered her, and while she was over for the most part, the dreams were the only thing that remained, and the only thing that could legitimately scare her, night after night. "Consider it like a last meal for a condemned man. At least, they get them in the movies. Although food would be appreciated, too." She paused and stared at him for a moment. "You're not going to give me some answer like, 'I killed her because I wanted to', are you? That would really suck."  
  
His eyes went towards the cell phone that was still sitting on the bed. "Call Gil and I'll answer anything that you want."  
  
"Well, this is a horrible trade-off. I already answered all of your questions," she said, picking up the phone and selecting the only number in the directory, the phone dialing it automatically. "You owe me," she added as she held the phone up to her ear. "The signal cleared up, by the way," she said, the phone ringing. Her father was supposed to answer, not let it ring.  
  
"Anastasia?" she heard suddenly.  
  
"Hey, Dad. It's me again. Before you ask, I'm still fine. Nothing's happened since the last phone call."  
  
She heard a sigh of relief on the other end, and could only make a confused face at the sound of it. No matter what, he always had the same poker face, and it went right down to his voice. This wasn't the father that she knew. "Okay, I want you to listen for a moment. Sara told me that when you're scared, you talk back. Don't do that, Anastasia. Do you understand me? I don't care whether he cares or not. Don't talk back."  
  
"I'll try," she said quietly, bringing her knees up to her chest and wrapped her free arm around them. "I'm not promising, but I'll try to stop."  
  
There was a quiet moment, where she could hear him crunching gravel under his feet wherever he was, but she knew that there was no gravel at their place, or at the lab, so it meant that he had to be somewhere else. Where the somewhere else was, she didn't know, but it gave her a little hope, as false as it might be. "And I'm sorry that I didn't know that. I should have."  
  
Shaking her head, she tried to figure out what direction this conversation was going. "That's...that's all right, Dad. There's a lot about me that...well, it doesn't really matter at this point." Was he giving up hope or something, she couldn't help but wonder. He wouldn't say anything like that normally, so maybe he was thinking that she would never get out of there to see him again. God, she hoped not. "At least I can actually hear you this time," she added.  
  
"Yeah, I just noticed that," he said slowly. "The reception really cleared up this time." His voice held that old calculating tone that she heard so often whenever they were on the phone. It usually meant that he was concerned about a case that he was working on, but this time...the case was about her. "You still don't know where you are?"  
  
"The window is covered with a board. I can't see a thing in here."  
  
"Anastasia, I-"  
  
He was broken off when the phone was pulled out of her hand again, and she could only roll her eyes. She wanted to know what he was going to say, but she didn't think that he would give her the chance again. "How touching, Gil," the man said with a smirk, looking towards Anastasia. She shot back the glare before turning to face him, making sure that he wasn't going to do anything that she wouldn't see. For a moment, it felt like she was the kidnapped in the situation. "Yes, she's just fine. Listen."  
  
She opened her mouth to say something loud enough to be heard over the phone, when a hand connected to the side of her face, making her cry out when his hand hit straight on the developing bruise. The bed creaked a little as she fell onto it, holding the side of her face, as tears started to develop in her eyes.  
  
The phone was shut off and slipped back into his pocket as he looked at her. "So, you want answers?" he asked. "Fine. That's just fine with me." 


	11. Chapter Ten- Remembrance

Title- Everything's Changed  
Author- pepsicolagurl  
Rating- R  
  
Notes- Same disclaimer as all of the rest.   
  
Chapter Ten  
  
"They found out why the car was left there," Sara said, leaning against the doorway as she watched him. "You know how all cars are run on computers now? Well, the computer failed in this one. It's a matter of replacing one chip, really, but that can be pricey, and they really didn't have the time."  
  
Grissom nodded. "That means that she's still around Las Vegas somewhere." He let out the breath he had been holding for what seemed like the past hour, and nodded again. "And close to wherever the car had been left. When she called the first time, there was a lot of static. When she called the second time, when we found the car, it was as clear as a bell."  
  
She smiled hesitantly and stepped in, shutting the door to his office. "Well...that's good, right? I mean, we have somewhere to work from. That area can't be that big. It's a lot of under-developed housing, houses that have been emptied so that more complexes can go in...it can't be that big."  
  
"Think again," he said. "It's actually quite big, and there are a lot of houses there. And if we get close to one she's in...we don't know what he would do. We don't know what he's going to do right now." He looked towards her and for the first time in a long time, she could see what he was feeling, plainly etched on his face and in his eyes. "He hit her. I heard her scream, and I could actually hear it when he hit her. The son of a bitch..."  
  
Her eyes went towards the floor after he said that. Sara took a deep breath and waited a moment before saying anything. "But we don't know that he did anything besides that, and for the moment, it's all we have." A bitter laugh sounded from her as she walked closer to the desk and took a seat, drumming her fingers on the top of it. "Do you know what I remember the best? Her kindergarten Christmas concert. Not really the concert, but getting her ready for it."  
  
"She was screaming when she saw you and Tara standing there with a dress and a curling iron. I don't think she ever forgave you for that," he said, a small smile coming to his face. "I've never seen someone run so fast in my life."  
  
This time, Sara's laugh was more delightful than anything. "Yeah, she complained the whole time when we were getting her ready. There was nothing she hated more than wearing a dress...but she looked adorable afterwards."  
  
The smile remained on his face as he slid open the top drawer of his desk and pulled out an old photograph, passing it over to her. The photograph that had been taken after they had finished curling her hair and put ribbons in it, after they had gotten the frilly dress on her, along with the Mary Jane's and little white socks. "I remember hearing her scream for at least ten minutes, and then she just...she stopped. I never knew why, but she stopped, and I could hear the three of you up there, laughing. It seems like so long ago."  
  
She put down the picture. "It was a long time ago, but...do you want to know why she stopped screaming?" she asked, not waiting for an answer. "Tara told her that every little girl, once in her life, has to put on a dress and curl her hair, just to look pretty for her dad. And when she heard that, she stopped and looked at me, and said, 'I'm going to look pretty for my Daddy?' I told her that she was going to look like a little princess when we were finished with her, but she was worried about not having her tiara. Eventually, we convinced her that she had a tiara, but you were the only one that could see it. That's why she stopped."  
  
"No one ever told me," he said quietly, looking down at the photograph.  
  
Sara nodded. "She went running out to see you when we were finished, and she asked, 'Do I look pretty?' and you-"  
  
"I told her that she looked like a little princess. She was happy to have you there, you know. She said that she wouldn't go, and she wouldn't let us go, unless you came along. I don't think a day went by that she didn't ask for you to come and live with us."  
  
She laughed again, shaking her head. "She had a hell of an imagination back then. And she was spoiled rotten, but she was still one of the sweetest kids you could ever meet." She paused and looked up towards him. "She'll be back, and she'll be fine."  
  
"She'll be back, I know that, but about her being fine...I can't be sure of that."  
  
Her eyes met his sharply. "Don't you dare say anything like that," she snapped.  
  
He raised a hand to stop her from going on. "I'm not saying anything like that, but you know Anastasia. She's not going to be 'fine' for a long time, and you know it. She won't say anything, but she'll sleep with the light on, like she used to. She'll stay up later than usual, and do nothing but watch television. It'll be like...like when Tara died, all over again. I know it will."  
  
"But there's a difference this time. You're not going to be sending her off to strange places again. You're actually going to be there when she needs you the most...aren't you?"  
  
It was his turn to let his eyes show the anger he felt at that comment. "Thank you for the concern, Sara, but I am planning on keeping her out here. I couldn't send her anywhere after that."  
  
"And in six months or so, when she feels safe again? Then what are you going to do? Is it going to be back to Orlando, or are you going to send her somewhere else? I heard that Germany has some great boarding schools," she said. "Damn it, give her a chance. Just one chance is all she needs."  
  
He sighed tiredly and looked away. "I don't know what I'm going to do, but you have nothing to do with the decision, Sara."  
  
Her eyes narrowed as her hands slammed down on his desk. She leaned forward and waited until he looked at her. "News flash, Gil. Tara's dead and you're the only person that she has left. And she's still trying to make herself into the pretty princess that you thought she was when she was a kid," she added before standing up and walking out of the room, slamming the door shut behind her.  
  
**********  
  
"You son of a bitch," she muttered, bringing a hand up to the cut that she had gotten before. It was open again, and slowly oozing blood. Nothing serious, but it stung worse than anything she had ever felt before. Very slowly, she worked her jaw from side to side, closing her eyes when her face exploded with pain. But it was nice to know that nothing had been severely damaged, she thought to herself.  
  
"And I'm sure that you could come up with a few other names to use for me, but really, Anastasia, it doesn't bother me." He took the seat at the desk again and watched as she wiped away the tears that had escaped, before clearing her throat. "Or should I call you Tara? I don't know what you prefer."  
  
It took awhile, but she finally opened her eyes and looked at him. "I really don't care what you call me."  
  
He nodded. "What does Gil call you?"  
  
"Anastasia," she answered shortly.   
  
"No nickname? He used to call you...what was it...Princess, right? Yeah, I think I remember hearing that before. But he never called you that after your mother died." Stopping, he looked at her closely, like he had done before. "You look a lot like your mother. The pictures that were in the newspaper...and you'd look a lot more like her if you ever got to her age. That has to bother Gil, I'm sure."  
  
She shrugged, making her face as neutral as possible. "So what if it does? I'm sure that you're not all that concerned about what either of us think about what you did, or what we think about you. We're not that much of a concern to you, now are we?"  
  
"Oh, but that's where you're wrong, Anastasia. You see, you're not that much of a concern to me, but your father is. You never really mattered. Just an added bonus."  
  
She smirked, despite the pain that it caused on the side of her face. "So I'm no better than the prize in the cereal box, or the decoder ring in the box of Cracker Jack's. Thanks, I appreciate it."  
  
"I'm sure you do," he said, before a considering look went over his face. "I said that I would give you answers. It doesn't really matter, because you won't be able to tell anyone what I said. You want to know why I killed your mother?" She nodded. "Retribution, plain and simple."  
  
Opening her mouth to say something, the words got stuck in her throat, and she quickly stopped and thought about what he said. "I...don't completely understand. Retribution for what?" She wanted nothing more than to add a sarcastic comment to the end of that, something along the lines of, 'And I'm surprised that you even know a big word like that,' but her father had asked her to at least TRY to stop talking back, and she was. She just didn't know what it would be so difficult.  
  
He shifted in the desk chair, making it complain like she had earlier, only he wasn't worried about it. Instead, he laid his arm out along the top of it. "Your father tried to ruin my life, Anastasia. He was accusing me of murder. You know the story, you have all the newspaper clippings from the trial. Your friend sent them to you."  
  
Shaking her head, she tried to make sense of what he had just told her. "You're telling me that because my dad thought that you killed someone...you turned around and killed someone. I can see the brilliance in that statement," she said dryly, mentally cursing herself. No talking back, she repeated in her head for a few moments. "Why did you kill my mom, though? Wouldn't it have been smarter to go after my dad? My mom had nothing to do with it."  
  
"But Tara had everything to do with it, Anastasia. You see, my wife was gone, and I was the suspected murderer. If I lost my wife...would it be fair for your dad to lose his? Now, I didn't have a child, which is the only reason that I never touched you all those years ago. But then I was caught, and I made that foolish mistake of telling Gil that you were next. I never go back on my word."  
  
If she wasn't so horrified by what she was hearing, she would have shuddered at the playful tone that he used to speak his words. This was the part of her history that no one knew about, that no one could tell her about. No one except for him, and the truth was, she wasn't really looking forward to speaking to a murderer, but she had no choice anymore. "I don't believe this," she exclaimed. "Did you kill your wife? The least you can do is tell me the truth about that."  
  
"Why do you want to know?"  
  
"Why shouldn't I know?" she asked in response, trying to stop her anger from showing.  
  
"Why do you want to know," he asked more slowly.  
  
Her face filled with color as she stared hotly at him. "God damn it, why the hell shouldn't I know? Tell me why I shouldn't," she shouted. "This is my life that we're talking about. I deserve to know!"  
  
He jumped out of his chair and walked closer to the bed, his eyes as calm and dead as she had ever seen. "You don't deserve to know anything, and you won't be alive for much longer. I answered the question that you wanted an answer to. It's not enough for you? That's too fucking bad," he shot at her before turning and opening the door. He walked out and slammed it shut behind him.   
  
Her eyes closed when she heard the lock turn. "Screw you! Just..." She trailed off and lowered her voice as tears came to her eyes, threatening to spill over. "Just screw you," she whispered, before turning away.  
  
For the first time since she had woken up in the room, she knew that there was no way she was going to get out of there the same way that she came in. That much was frighteningly clear.  
  
**********  
  
With a quiet groan, Sara lowered herself on the couch and stretched out, closing her eyes. The last thing she wanted to do was leave the lab, but there was nothing for her to do there. The regular shift was over, and no one would even let her get close to the latest body that had come in, the teenager that had been found on the side of the road. She knew that everyone had been thinking the same thing when the call had come in, and that was the reason that she hadn't gone along. She couldn't imagine what it would have been like to look down and see Anastasia laying there, but it wasn't her. Luckily...thankfully, it wasn't her.   
  
But it was still a teenager, close to the same age as Anastasia. It would have been too much for her to work on it, they thought. But they were wrong. She needed something to take her mind off of the missing girl, and she would have dove right into the case, barely coming up for air. Maybe that was the problem. They thought that she would be too involved with it.  
  
She rolled over and tucked her arm under her head, creating a makeshift pillow as she sighed. She had been sent home. The only thing she was surprised by was that they didn't take her out, kicking and screaming. They had just told her to leave...and she had. All she wanted to do was wait and see if they could get anything from the car. All the hair had been collected, all the blood...all of it Anastasia's again. They knew what direction the car was going, they basically knew where she was, but they couldn't do anything about it. Grissom had been right. If they had even gotten close to the house, and he had noticed, they didn't know what would happen to her, and they couldn't take that chance. No one could.   
  
Narrowing it down to one house, or even one section of houses in that area would be hard. Everything under-developed or abandoned...it was a complete mess. Everyone else had thrown themselves into the job more than willingly, and she could do nothing but stand there and watch and worry.  
  
Worry about the little girl that she used to look after her. The one that would giggle and shriek uncontrollably when you even threatened to tickle her. The one that liked to bake cookies with her Mom or with Sara. The one that would sit there with a storybook and struggle past every big word, trying to figure it all out for herself. And she worried about the teenager that she had become. The sarcastic brat that loved to blast country music out of the stereo every chance she got. The one that would agree to pay for her own lunch only, and then turn around and pay for both of them weren't the other person wasn't looking. The one that was still as innocent as a child, and yet so smart about the way the world worked.   
  
And she couldn't help but be worried for Grissom. She knew, without really realizing, how much this was affecting him. She was sure that the only other person that understood was Catherine. He was so calm, so stoic...but then you got him alone, and he would start talking without thinking about what he was saying, and it was in those rare moments that you really saw him. How worried he was...how scared he was that he wouldn't see his daughter again. He never really saw her before, but now...it was almost like his little princess had returned, and he was trying to protect her like he used to.   
  
Her eyes opened to stare blankly at the wall, not all that shocked when she felt the tears raise in her eyes. She had seen Anastasia grow up from a happy little girl, into a confused and awkward teenager, and then into a more confidant one. And now, she was a teenager that was scared for her life.   
  
She would give anything to trade places with her. Anything at all, and she had nothing to offer. But if it meant that that little girl, that teenager, didn't have to go through what she was...she would give everything that she owned. There was nothing that she could do, though.  
  
A single tear escaped her eye and rested on the side of her face as she let out a long, shaky breath. There was nothing she could do, but stand there and be in the way. Watch and hope for the best. And it was almost like the life had been sucked out of the lab. No one was really joking around, and no one was teasing each other like they usually did. Even Greg, when he found out what was happening, had stopped the corny jokes and playful flirting with the women, trying to process the blood samples as quickly and efficiently as he could.  
  
No one even really knew Anastasia there. Most of them had met her, but they didn't know her. Her case had become the most important, and not because it was Grissom's daughter. Any kidnapping or missing persons case always took precedent over the others, and this was no exception.   
  
If she could get her hands on Richard Blake...if she could just get near him, she would be the happiest person alive. Because there wouldn't be much left of him to examine. Forget the regulation gun that she wore, or procedure, or anything. All she needed was five minutes alone with him, and her bare hands. The thought that she could hurt someone so easily and without any regret frightened her, but it was the truth. Anything to understand why he was doing this, why he would try and hurt all of them...  
  
She had no ties to Anastasia, no real ones. She was an old baby-sitter, and a friend. That was it, but to see the kind of worry and pain that Grissom was going through, and the fright and pain that she was sure Anastasia was going through...that changed everything for her.   
  
Her eyes closed again, but it didn't stop the next tear from falling. Or the one after that, or the one that followed the third. They were coming faster, and faster, and just like everything else, there was nothing that she could do.  
  
Absolutely nothing. 


	12. Chapter Eleven- Finality

Title- Everything's Changed  
Author- pepsicolagurl  
Rating- R for language and violence  
  
Notes- Same disclaimer as before. The one unmarked police car that's mentioned is a tiny tribute to Constable Audi, who I've run into on many occasions, and the one RCMP officer that I actually liked. He died unnecessarily in an unmarked car, and he'll be missed by the entire community.  
  
Chapter Eleven  
  
Catherine rubbed her eyes and reached for the steaming coffee in front of her, taking a cautious sip. "We can count out any of the under-developed properties. None of them have roofs, and some of them don't even have walls. I don't think he's going to keep her out in the open, where she could get away."  
  
Two pieces of paper were shoved towards the end of the table. "Thanks for telling us that now," Warrick said, looking at the copy of the houses that had been left to be destroyed to build up more expensive housing. "That leaves us with what...twenty houses? Thirty?"  
  
"Who the hell wants to build that many places anyway?" Nick asked suddenly, making a face. "But you have to admit that whoever is doing it is making a lot of money. They're going to be bought up at the asking price, and then those people are going to rent them out, and make their money back in about three months. Not a bad idea."  
  
"Good luck trying to afford one," she said in a distracted tone. "I don't even know why we're doing this. We're not going to figure out what house it is by looking at a list, and we can't go down there to look around. We're screwed, either way." She slammed the piece of paper down on the table. "All right, there's thirty two houses in the area, and fifteen of them have already been torn down. That leaves...what...seventeen houses? And she's in a house that we know nothing about."  
  
"Not exactly," Warrick began. "Think of it this way. He would most likely turn on at least one light, and that would be the light that would in the room that Anastasia is in. He wouldn't be on the edge of the properties, then, because you can see those from the road. That means that it has to be surrounded by other properties, right?"  
  
Nodding, the only woman in the room turned around the map that the construction company had faxed to them. Every property was marked off on the sheet, complete with what number the lot was. She reached for a yellow highlighter and took the cap off, putting a line through all of the properties that were along the edges. "All right, so those are out. Which are the ones that have been torn down?"  
  
Both men leaned over and looked closer to the map, pointing to different squares after checking the lists that they had. Catherine marked off each one, leaving them with nine different houses, all of them creating a square. "That was too easy," she said, shaking her head.   
  
"Not really. We still don't know which one it is, and we can't get close to them until we do know. It has to be the exact house before anyone heads down there. Do you think we can request a helicopter to take us over the properties?" Nick asked with a shrug.  
  
"And let the noise from the helicopter be heard by this guy? We can't risk it, especially if he sees it. He would know that we knew where he was, and then what happens?" Catherine asked, making a face. "Driving by is pointless, because we won't see anything. Look, if it's anything, it's one of these three houses," she added, running her finger along the middle ones. "They're building on one side, which blocks our view, and they said that they parked all of their equipment on this side, which blocks that."  
  
Warrick shook his head. "Not exactly. These three, right there, could be where she is, too. It would be too obvious if someone drove onto the property, and there's only one road leading in there. They haven't started building the others that are going there."  
  
They all quieted for a moment, looking at the piece of paper. "All right, so we've gone from thirty two houses down to six. That's at least some progress," Nick said, mostly to himself. "If Anastasia called again, we could get Grissom to ask some specific questions about what's in the house or in that room. That might help."  
  
"She won't call again," Catherine told him quietly. "The first call was the only one that she was supposed to make. The second one was just for fun. Think about it. Both times, she told him that she was all right, and the second time..." She trailed off, not finishing the thought. "If there is another call, it'll come from him, and you know what that means."  
  
"Yeah," the men said in unison, their eyes trained on the six properties that the teenager could be hidden on. Six houses, and they had to get the right one of the first try. "Okay," Nick continued after a moment. "Think about what we already have. We know that the cell phone is under her name, but she doesn't have a cell phone. A decade old death threat. A broken down car that points us in the right direction, and a lot of hair samples, blood samples, and fingerprints that don't help in the least. Does any of that really help now?"  
  
The woman shrugged and leaned back, reaching for her mug of coffee. "We're basically back at square one, and that's the one thing that no one wants to hear. We really have nowhere to go with this. And the worst part is that we have an inventory of each house...and we know nothing about the house that she's in." She picked up the paper beside her and read down the list. "I mean, look at this. Lot number 25 has a couch in the main room, an old bed in the one bedroom. Lot number 23 has boarded up windows, a desk and a bed in the second bedroom. Lot number 27 has...what's with the look?" she asked Warrick.  
  
He shook his head. "What...is Lot 23 the only one with boarded up windows? Even the houses that we've marked off of the list. Look down the entire list."  
  
"No, it says that Lot number 34 has boarded up windows, too, but...Lot number 34 is half torn down. Why?"  
  
"I'm trying to remember what Grissom said about that last phone call. The reception was more clear, and...she said that she couldn't tell where she was, because the window had been covered with a board. That's it, then. Lot 23. The house is in the square of nine, isn't it?"  
  
Nick ran his finger along the properties to find the one he was talking about, and stopped on one to the side that was hidden behind the machinery of the construction company. "Yeah, and it's not visible because all of the company's stuff is right there. If it's the only one with boarded windows...it has to be the one. It's perfect."  
  
"Not only that, but you wouldn't see any lights if it was boarded up," Catherine added, a smile coming to her face. "All right, I'll make the call and see what the officers want to do with this." She stood up and started out of the room.  
  
"Wait, what about Grissom and Sara? You're in charge of this one," Nick added.  
  
She paused before turning around and nodding. "We shouldn't, but they would never forgive us if we didn't. Call them and tell them to come down here, but don't tell them where the property is. They'd probably try to head down there themselves, and that's something that we don't need. Go, make the calls."  
  
**********  
  
Sara slammed her hand against the door and stormed into the room. "You know where she is?" she asked impatiently, brushing her hair away from her face. Catherine looked towards her, but decided not to comment on the tear marks that she saw on her face. "You're sure that you know?"  
  
"I've never been more positive of anything in my life, besides when I knew I was pregnant," she said shortly, tossing her something. "If you're coming down with us, there's a few rules that you need to know about. Number one, none of us are running this show. I know that you already know, but I have to tell you that anyway. Number two, you stay with the rest of us. No one takes off and runs for the house, no matter what. It's already been decided that it'll be the police, then the paramedics, because there's a good chance that Anastasia is going to need them. Then, you and Grissom can go in, but she's most likely going to be taken in to an ambulance before you can see her. It's just a precaution."  
  
Nodding her head, she looked around the room. "I figured that out. How is this-"  
  
"There's going to be police officers in front of the building, beside it, and behind it. Just in case he tries to get out anywhere, or tries to move her someplace else, someone will be there. I...uh...I need your gun."  
  
Her eyes narrowed as her hand went to the small of her back protectively. "What do you mean, you need my gun?" she asked.  
  
Catherine took a deep breath and put out her hand. "Look, I don't want you to decide to take matters into your own hands and pull your gun on him. That's what the police are for. The rest of us...it's a precaution."  
  
"Me and Grissom because we're close to her, and you guys in case it turns out to be murder," she said dully before removing her gun and handing it over. "It's not so much me that you have to worry about."  
  
"Grissom is giving up his gun, too. We're not taking any chances. I know that you two are pissed, but like you said, you two are familiar faces to her. That's the only reason that you're coming along. In reality, you should be waiting here or at your place, but I'm breaking protocol."  
  
She nodded. "Thank you. Where is he, anyway?"  
  
The other woman motioned for her to come along, and they started out of the room and down the hallway to the main exit. "He's at my house right now. He couldn't stay at his place, and there was no point in getting a hotel room. I dropped him off a few hours ago, and the guys are picking him up right now. Actually, they should be back," she added, checking her watch. "We have to hurry, they'll leave without us, and then we're out of luck and we'll have to wait."  
  
Sara nodded again and followed beside her as they walked outside into the bright sunlight and towards Catherine's vehicle. She jumped into the passenger seat immediately and fastened her seat belt as the engine was started. A row of police cars, both marked and one unmarked, started out of the parking lot, lights and sirens going. Catherine turned on the blue flashing lights that were hidden in the grill of the vehicle, and waited for the officer in the parking lot to motion for them to follow.   
  
Two ambulances went ahead of them, one for Anastasia, and one for Richard Blake if it was needed, although Sara would have felt better if it would have been the medical examiner's van. Finally, they were motioned to follow, and Catherine pulled out, immediately matching the speed of all the other vehicles. The woman in the passenger seat closed her eyes for a moment and wrapped her hand around the handle on the door, wishing that they could go faster than they already were.   
  
When her eyes opened, she looked at the back of the ambulance and swallowed thickly. She wanted nothing more than to see one ambulance used, and the other person to be carried out in a body bag, and it sure as hell wasn't the teenager that she wanted in it. She could only wish.  
  
***********  
  
Anastasia leaned back on the bed and stared at the ceiling, not sure what to feel. She had acted as indifferent as she could, but she really wasn't looking forward to the end of this whole ordeal. There was no way to avoid it anymore, and she knew that it would be coming soon enough. The only thing left was to think of all of her regrets and all the things that she always wanted to do, but never had the chance.  
  
And only one thing was coming to mind. She had the opportunity, for so many years, to be close to her father. To at least try, like Sara had suggested back when they had gone out for dinner. It wasn't that long ago, she knew that, but it seemed like years ago. This night had been the longest of her life, and she couldn't even be sure if it was day or night. Was it that day or the day before since she had last seen her father's face? The last time she would see it. God, that hurt more than she thought it would.  
  
It was time for her to regret all the times that she had sat around with her friends and made fun of him, or complained about him. He didn't know about it, but that didn't mean that it didn't matter. All the times that she had talked back to him when she shouldn't have, she wanted to take back every single one of those words. Every time that she opened her mouth but never came out with the words, "Thank you," or, "I love you," she could only say those words to herself now, and he wouldn't hear them.   
  
She was about to give the guy what he wanted. Because she had started to cry, and it wouldn't stop anytime soon. He asked her why she wasn't crying or screaming. Now was her opportunity to do all of that, and even if it meant that he was getting what he wanted, she couldn't help it. She had held her emotions back for long enough, and she couldn't do it for another moment.  
  
Quiet sobs escaped her as she turned her head towards the wall, wishing that it was over already. That way she wouldn't have to think about all the things she was regretting, or all the things she never said. She wouldn't have to think about what her father would do when he heard the news that she wasn't there anymore. They had just started to act like they used to, like an actual father and daughter.   
  
She wondered if he missed her all the time that she was gone, all those years that she had spent bouncing from school to school. She missed him, but never said a word to anyone but Sara. What was the point of telling him, she had wondered then. It wasn't like he really cared. But now she was beginning to think that maybe he did care, and maybe they could have finished what they had just started if she had gone down there a year or even a few months earlier.  
  
All those years, she was living a lie, and all because he wanted her to. A name that wasn't hers, a history that she twisted so that no one would question her...it was what he wanted, so she went along with it. He never even had to ask her to do anything, she would just know what to do, and what would make him happy. She followed his rules, the unspoken ones that ruled both of their lives for so long. The occasional phone calls, rare visits...would it have been any different if she had made one additional call when he hadn't been expecting it? Made one surprise visit, instead of skiing in Aspen or having her picture taken in front of the Eiffel Tower. Would it have made any difference?  
  
Despite her tears, Anastasia sat up suddenly and looked towards the boarded window. It could have been her imagination, she thought, but she swore that she had just heard a vehicle drive through gravel and park close to where she was. Her frown deepened when she heard another vehicle, followed by another, until she couldn't count anymore. Doors were opened, feet were pounding in the gravel outside, and there were a number of loud clicks that she couldn't identify for a moment. then she knew what was happening. They, whoever they were, had guns. Lots of them, judging by the noise.  
  
"Anastasia," someone shouted from outside.  
  
Her eyes widened as she got up off of the bed, barely feeling the pain from her sprained ankle. "Dad," she yelled back, as loud as she could. As soon as the word died out from her lips, the door to the room was thrown open, and she saw Richard Blake standing there, a gun in his hand.   
  
"Well, they found us, did they?" he asked, a smirk on his face. "Come here," he told her, pointing the gun towards her chest. She narrowed her eyes defiantly. "I said, come here, you little bitch," he added in the same tone.  
  
She started to hobble over to him, and as soon as she got close enough, he wrapped an arm around her and turned her so that her back was pressed against him. The gun was immediately pressed against her temple, and she swallowed thickly. "How many cops are out there?" she asked bravely, trying to move her eyes to see his face. She couldn't.  
  
"Shut up," he said lowly, before dragging her out into an empty hallway. "We're going to go say hello to Gil, since he decided to come along. If you make one wrong move, you won't even have a chance to say goodbye to him, understand?"  
  
She tried to keep her breaths even and deep as he forced her to put weight on her hurt ankle, pushing her towards the front door. "If you shoot me, they'll just shoot you. Is that what you want?" she asked, the slightest tremble coming to her voice.  
  
"But you'll be gone, and he'll see it. That's even better," he said. "Now reach out and open the door, all right? Nice and slow, and then we'll go wave to your daddy."  
  
Don't tremble, she told herself. Don't show him that you're scared. But it was easier said than done, or in this case, easier thought that done. Her eyes closed for a moment before she reached out and touched the doorknob, turning it so that the lock popped. She swung it open, making sure that she could be seen. "They'll get you, no matter what you do."  
  
He chuckled behind her. "Don't you get it, Anastasia? I really don't care. As long as you're not here, and I've done what I said I will, I really don't give a shit. Now open the door all the way." She did what he asked, just as his arm tightened and pulled her closer to him. The gun that was pressed against her temple was warm, not cold like she had thought it would have been. She let out a deep breath and looked up towards the blue sky before closing her eyes again.   
  
"Please don't do this," she whispered. "You can just let me go, you know. You don't have to do this."  
  
"I told you, I'm going to keep my word," he whispered in response, before looking towards the mass of police cars. Two ambulances were parked off to the side, and two darker vehicles were in the back. His eyes searched for Grissom and saw him standing towards the back. "I'd suggest that you all put down your weapons. You wouldn't want to slip and shoot Anastasia instead," he called out, watching as the officers hesitated until the officer in front motioned for them to do as he asked. "That was quick. I thought that she would be dead before you figured it out."  
  
"You took too much time, asshole. Should have done me in when you had the chance," she muttered, a small noise escaping her throat when he pushed the gun against the side of her head a little more.   
  
He lowered his head towards hers, keeping his eyes on the police officers the entire time. "I would shut up if I were you," he hissed in her ear, before the gun he was holding clicked just like all the rest. This one was louder, because it was right beside her. Her eyes flew open when she heard it, and she stared at her father, afraid to make even the slightest movement. "Tell the truth, Gil. Is there anything that you want to say to Anastasia before I pull the trigger? Maybe that...you regret the fact that you weren't around when she was growing up? Or that you never noticed how much she's grown up. She looks a lot like Tara, doesn't she? Anastasia is a beautiful young girl, isn't she. I'm giving you one last chance, the one chance that I didn't let you have with Tara. What do you want to say to your daughter, because they'll be the last words that she hears."  
  
Grissom looked between his daughter and the man that was holding her, before he shook his head slowly. "No, I can't think of anything that I want to say," he called back. Anastasia's eyes widened just seconds before a loud noise sounded from the back of the house.   
  
The man moved quickly, turning towards the back of the house with the gun pointed in that direction, but he kept Anastasia in place, so that they still couldn't shoot at him. She noticed that his arm was twisted uncomfortably, and his hold wasn't as tight as it had been. Her mind raced as her head lowered and she bit his arm as hard as she could, making him release her. The bite surprised him, and he pushed her backwards with his shock, making her hit the wooden porch hard, her forehead bouncing against it.   
  
The last thing she heard was a gun shot, but she didn't know where it came from. 


	13. Chapter Twelve- Examination

Title- Everything's Changed  
Author- pepsicolagurl  
Rating- R for language and violence  
  
Notes- Same disclaimer as before. This is the last regular chapter, to be followed by the epilogue. Enjoy.  
  
Chapter Twelve  
  
They watched helplessly as the unconscious teenager was loaded into the back of the ambulance. Everyone had seen her bend her head down and bite the man as hard as she could to get away. One of the police officers had just been getting ready to shout at her to just slip out of his arm and hit the ground, but they didn't have the time. His hold hadn't been that tight on her, they could see that from where they were standing, but she decided to do it her own way.   
  
The dull thud that had sounded from the porch had been heard by everyone around as she had hit the ground, only seconds before the three officers that had come in through the back of the house had started to shoot. One of the officers had been hit in the chest, although he had, thankfully, been wearing a bullet proof vest.   
  
And just like Catherine had told Sara, it went in shifts. First, the police went up to make sure that he was disarmed, but it turned out that one of the bullets, the second one of many, had killed him. The paramedics were motioned to after that, and they hurried to get Anastasia into the ambulance. Once it had taken off, the siren screaming and lights flashing, everyone stood around for a moment, unsure of what to do.   
  
That was, until Sara reached over and grabbed a set of keys out of Warrick's hand. "We're going to the hospital. I know where they're taking her," she said shortly, heading over to the vehicle that he had brought.   
  
Grissom looked towards her, shaking his head. "You're not driving," he said, even as he was walking over to the passenger side.   
  
She stopped and looked at him for a long moment. "Shut up and get in the damned thing so that we can go to the hospital, would you?" she said sharply, opening the driver's door and climbing in. He followed dutifully, as she turned on the engine, the lights in the grill still flashing. She took off before anyone could say anything, following the same direction that the ambulance had taken. "She's fine, she just hit her head," she added as she turned a corner, slowing down only enough to make it safely before she stepped on the gas again.  
  
"I know," he said quietly. "He didn't...God, I'm still shaking," he whispered, looking down at his hands. "I don't think she's really hurt."  
  
"Her ankle, that cut, and a few bruises. That's all," Sara said with a nod, licking her dry lips. "We're lucky that they figured it out when they did. A few minutes later, and..."  
  
"We don't know that for sure," he said, before looking over at her. "You missed the turn. You were supposed to turn over there."  
  
She shrugged. "I'm taking a short cut," she told him as she turned the wheel into an lot that was supposed to turn into a new hotel. She sped past the few people around, the tires kicking up clouds of dust, before she went through the other opening and back onto the main street. "They won't let us see her right away, you know that, right? They have to look her over and get her ankle looked at before we'll be allowed to go in there."  
  
He nodded. "I know, Sara," he said, just before she came to a screeching halt outside of the emergency room.   
  
"Go on in. They'll need some information, and I have to find a parking space so that Nick doesn't kill me when he finds out that I had his truck impounded. Go," she added when he just sat there. He finally opened the door and jogged around the back to the entrance as Sara moved to the visitor's parking lot, looking for a space big enough. She finally found one and shut off the engine, climbing out as she ran towards the doors that Grissom had gone through, seeing him fill in the usual forms. "She's allergic to penicillin," she said shortly as she sat down beside him, taking a deep breath.  
  
"I know," he returned in the same tone. "I do know her medical history, thank you." He filled in the appropriate areas and went to hand the forms back, as she leaned her head against the wall and closed her eyes. It was going to be a long wait for them.  
  
**********  
  
"Ow," Anastasia said, as they started wrapping up her ankle with an Ace bandage. She had been right when she thought that it had been sprained, not broken.   
  
The doctor looked up from what he was doing and smiled at her. "Good morning...Anastasia, right?" he asked. She nodded her head and immediately regretted the movement. "As soon as we finish with this, I'm going to get your father and your sister."  
  
"My...yeah, sure," she said, understanding what he was saying after a moment. Sara was in the waiting room, as well. "My ankle's not broken?"  
  
He shook his head and finished wrapping the bandage around it, before fastening it tightly. "You hit your head, but you don't have a concussion. You were knocked unconscious, and you probably have a bit of a headache."  
  
"That would explain the pain and the black dots again." She caught him look and smiled weakly. "This is the second time today that I've been unconscious."  
  
He nodded and got off of the stool he had been sitting on. "There's a bandage on the side of your face, because you had a bit of a scratch there. You didn't need any stitches, but you've got a few bruises. You'll be pretty sore for a few days, but a few aspirin should help that."  
  
Anastasia winced and sat up, trying to ignore the shooting pains in her head. "All right. Could I see my dad now, please?" she asked, knowing that he could answer all the questions she had about what had happened. The doctor nodded again and promised that her father would be there in a moment, before leaving her alone. As soon as he had left, she looked around to see that she was in the emergency room, the bed surrounded by a cheap curtain. She sighed as she listened to all of the noise around her, which only made her head pound a little harder.  
  
She was about to lean back against the pillow and close her eyes, before the curtain was pushed aside. Immediately, her eyes filled with tears as Grissom sat down beside her on the bed. She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around his neck, sniffling as her tears started to fall. There was a moment that she thought that he was just going to sit there and let her cry on him without doing anything, but she felt him hold onto her.  
  
The other side of the bed moved, as Sara sat down and reached out her hand, running down the length of her hair, like she used to when Anastasia was a little girl and wouldn't go to sleep at night. The teenager was literally shaking as she pulled away and wiped her tears away, sniffling one more time. "What happened? I...I don't remember."  
  
"You bit him," Sara said, amusement in her voice. "And you bit him pretty hard. Nice move, Ana," she added.  
  
Anastasia laughed lightly as she tucked her hair behind her ears. "Was he taken to jail?"  
  
The two adults looked at each other before Grissom shook his head. "No, they didn't have to. One of the officers shot him and...there wasn't a chance."  
  
"So, he's dead?" she asked, before getting two nods. "I don't feel happy about it, you know. I don't...I don't even care. I just want to go home. They're going to release me, aren't they?"  
  
"They're just getting a set of crutches for you, so that you don't put any weight on your ankle, but they're releasing you in a little while. There's no reason for you to stay in here. You weren't seriously hurt," Sara explained. "Your place has already been cleaned up."  
  
She nodded before looking over at her father. "By the way, I'm sorry about breaking the coffee table. If he hadn't have ducked, top of it wouldn't have shattered. I wish he hadn't have ducked. I would have gotten away then. But the bastard ducked." She looked around again, before staring at him again. "I just want an aspirin and some sleep. How long are they going to take?"  
  
"They shouldn't be much longer," he said, looking down at her bare arms at the bruises that marred her skin. "We'll take you home as soon as we can, don't worry."  
  
"Home? Does that mean I'm staying?" she asked softly.  
  
He shrugged as Sara reached forward to brush back a piece of hair that fell in her face. "If you want to. It's your decision this time. You can stay here, and I'll enroll you in one of the local high schools, or you can go back to Orlando, to your old school."  
  
Anastasia nodded again as the doctor came back with a pair of crutches for her and some last minute instructions. "I'd rather stay, if that's all right. I don't remember what it's like to call a place 'home'," she added, the last part so quiet that no one heard it but her.  
  
**********  
  
"I suppose she's not too worried about the aspirin," Grissom said, looking into the seat behind his, where they had stretched Anastasia out and buckled her in. About five minutes away from the hospital, she had fallen asleep and hadn't woken up since. He watched her carefully to make sure that she was still breathing before reaching over to release his own seat belt.  
  
Sara looked back as well. "I guess not," she said quietly so that she wouldn't wake her, although it would take a lot. "Catherine told me that someone came by to replace the glass in her windows this morning, but it would probably be easier for her to be downstairs."  
  
He shook his head as he continued to watch his daughter. "I can't put her down there. You heard what she said, that's where he knocked her unconscious. He was never in her room, that's the one place that she'll feel safe." She nodded along with that as they got out of the vehicle. Grissom opened up the back door and carefully unsnapped her belt, letting it go back where it belonged before reaching for her and carrying her out of there, one arm under her knees, the other around her back. He followed Sara up the stairs before stopping and frowning. "You'll have to get my keys out."  
  
"Where are they?" she asked, before shaking her head with a chuckle. "I'll try not to enjoy myself," she added dryly before reaching into his pants pocket and pulling out the keys, digging through them. "Which one?" He motioned to the right one and she unlocked the door, letting him go in first.   
  
Once she stepped in, she shook her head with a smirk, thinking about what she had just done before leaving the keys down on the table by the door and watching as he carried her upstairs carefully. She put down the other set of keys and kicked off her shoes, before her attention was pulled over to a piece of paper on the table. She looked at it with a grin. Grissom had told her that he had left a phone number for Anastasia to call if she couldn't get him on the cell phone, but he didn't say that he had written down almost every number that he knew. She couldn't help but laugh as she walked into the living room, looking around.  
  
Everything was where she had left it after she had finished cleaning up the living room earlier that morning, after they had kicked her out of the building. It hadn't taken long for her to clean up the broken glass that used to be the top of the coffee table, and the frame was where she had left it, pushed against the wall. All of the little objects that Anastasia had thrown were back where they belonged, or where she thought they belonged. Sara climbed onto the couch and looked over the back of it to see if she had been able to get the stain of the blood out of the white carpet. She could still smell the cleaner and the bleach that she had used, but you couldn't tell that blood had been there before. She had been lucky enough to clean it up before the stain had set in.  
  
Sighing, she moved herself around on the couch until she was laying on it, facing the sliding glass door. The only thing that was noticeable about the struggle that had taken place in there was the crack in the glass. It hadn't been replaced yet, but she knew it would be eventually. A wince appeared on her face as she stretched her back, hearing it crack twice, before she closed her eyes and waited for Grissom to come back downstairs.   
  
Unfortunately, she wasn't awake for that. When he came down the stairs, he went to say something to her, before looking towards the couch and seeing the top of her head. He smiled slightly before going over there and taking the blanket off of the top of the couch, where she had left it there, and covered her up carefully, looking around the living room, much like she had done, surprised that there was no broken glass or bloodstain on the carpet. His eyes went back towards the sleeping woman before he smiled again, reminding himself to thank her before he went outside to get Anastasia's crutches for when she woke up, even though he knew it wouldn't be until morning. 


	14. Epilogue

Title- Everything's Changed  
Author- pepsicolagurl  
Rating- R for language and violence  
  
Notes- Same disclaimer as all the rest. There's some additional notes down at the bottom of this one. Thanks for reading this far, too.  
  
Epilogue  
  
Anastasia looked her, her eyes covered with dark sunglasses, as she reached her hand up. "Dad, a little help, please?" He pulled her back up and immediately handed her the crutches that she had become almost dependent on, as she looked back down to see the white carnations that were placed neatly on the grass, but so that they wouldn't cover the writing on the slab of marble.   
  
"How did you know that white carnations were her favorite?"  
  
She smiled and looked towards him. "The same way that I know that 'Queen Of The Silver Dollar' is her song. You told me, a long time ago. See, I do listen to you. Frightening thought, isn't it?" Her head turned to look towards the grave. "Have you been here since it happened? I'm just curious." She added with a sheepish grin.  
  
Grissom nodded slowly. "A long time ago, years ago. Just before I sent you off to the first school, actually. You haven't been back, have you?"  
  
Her now pale cheeks flushed with red as she looked down towards the flowers. "Uh...well, actually, I have. I come almost every year. Every time that I head off on summer vacation or something, I stop by and check this place out. Clean it up a little, pull the weeds. You know, what everyone else does. And I bring her flowers." Her head titled. "It's a...peace offering, I guess. I don't know for what. An apology for not remembering her the way that I should, I guess."  
  
"You remember what you can, Anastasia. Anything that I can tell you won't help you remember anything else. All you can have is...what you have."  
  
She nodded, pushing her sunglasses up when they started to slide down. "But I have answers now, and that's what makes this all the more sad," she said softly, tracing her mother's name with her eyes. "I have answers that you don't want to hear. It's over for you, isn't it?"  
  
He paused, not sure of what to say. "I...I don't think it'll ever be over. But finality and closure are two different things. You'll learn that eventually...like when you go to college. And speaking of finality-"  
  
"Quiet, not in front of Mom," she teased, a smile breaking out on her face again. "I know, quit smoking. I'm sorry you had to find out that way. I really did mean to tell you, I just didn't have the chance." She turned to look at him, lowering her sunglasses so that he could see the apologetic look in her eyes. "Forgive me?"  
  
"Maybe," he told her, before looking back down. "Are you ready to go? I was planning on taking you out for dinner, if you want."  
  
Anastasia paused for a moment before shaking her head. "You go ahead. I have to say a few things to Mom first. Don't worry, I'm not delusional, but you never know. She might actually be able to hear me, and this is something that...well, it's something that she needs to know." When he didn't move, she sighed. "Go, Dad. It's not like I'm going to tell her that I'm pregnant or anything."  
  
"Anastasia Tara-"  
  
"I get it. Go, already." She waited until he started to walk off, leaving her alone. Once he was out of hearing distance, she lowered herself back on the ground and laid her crutches beside her, reaching out a finger to actually run it over her name, not just with her eyes. Finally, after a moment of silence, she looked towards the marble and smiled. "Mom, as much as I love you for barely knowing you...don't let Sara compete with a ghost...as much as it creeps me out right now. See you next year," she added before using her crutches to stand up and cast one more look towards the grave before walking away.  
  
She said all she needed to.  
  
**********  
  
  
All right, so it's finished. As much fun as that was, if you couldn't tell by the last few lines, there's going to be a sequel. So, pretty soon, look out for "Absolutely Nothing's Changed", which has very little to do with Anastasia, and a lot to do with...well, you can guess.   
  
Thank you, again, for all the kind reviews, and to everyone that read the story, I hoped you enjoyed it. See you next time around.  
  
Always,  
~ pepsicolagurl 


End file.
